


Fair Trade

by DaronwyK



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Forced Marriage, Good Severus Snape, Manipulative Dumbledore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 03:20:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 84,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13227033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaronwyK/pseuds/DaronwyK
Summary: **Finalist for Best Drama/Angst in the Hermione's Haven 2018 Awards**  During the Battle in the Department of Mysteries, Hermione kills Bellatrix Lestrange while protecting Harry. With the Dark Lord calling for her blood, and Bellatrix' widow hunting her relentlessly...how can she survive, and what unforeseen consequences will she have to pay?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I’ve been playing with this plunnie for a while and after some urging I’ve decided to share it. Hopefully it receives a warm welcome. Canon up to the Battle in the Department of Mysteries in OotP, majorly AU afterwards.  
> Reviews are most graciously appreciated and they are the fuel that drives most fan fiction authors. Usual disclaimers of course apply, sadly I am not JKR and she of course owns the Harry Potter Universe.

**o.o.O.o.o**

 

Rodolphus ran through the department of Mysteries, searching relentlessly for his wife. The Dark Lord had been clear, the boy was not to be harmed, but Bella was in one of her moods. He could not risk her killing the boy, the consequences would be dire and doubtlessly not visited on his wife. When he spotted her taking aim at the Potter boy’s back, his heart fell down to his knees and his breath caught in his throat.

 

‘Damnit Bella,’ he thought hopelessly, he wasn’t in a good position to shield the boy or even get a clean shot at the crazed witch. Everything seemed to slow down as he watched a girl shove Potter to the side, and hit his wife with a close-range Reducto. Watching in horror, Bella fell backwards, the force of the spell knocking her off her feet and hurling her through the air. Her once beautiful face reduced to unrecognizable hunks of meat, bone, and blood.

 

Dragging his eyes back to the girl, Rodolphus could see the shock and disbelief flash across her face. She’d clearly never killed before. Time seemed to finally stop as her eyes were locked onto Bellatrix’s fallen body, the Potter boy trying to drag her away by her arm.

 

“Come on Hermione, we have to go!” Harry shouted, and it seemed to jar her out of her trance. Together the two teens fled deeper into the Department of Mysteries. 

 

Pausing over Bella’s body, Rodolphus felt something akin to relief. Making quick use of a disillusionment charm, he continued to follow the young witch that had gotten the better of his now very dead wife. Just as he entered the next room, he saw her cast a powerful silencing spell on Antonin, a clever tactic…but not against that particular wizard. He saw the rage in Dolohov’s eyes and he cast a silent protego-maxima in front of her. He knew it wouldn’t completely stop the purple fire that came racing at her, but it would dampened it.

 

Dolohov’s personal curse struck the girl and she fell hard, hitting her head off the polished black tile that covered the floors here. Potter and Dolohov traded curses through the room, leaving the girl behind. He watched as Severus melted out of the shadows and rushed to her side, and he let out a sigh of relief. Snape would ensure that the girl survived her wounds. Moving quickly on silent feet, Rodolphus slipped out of the area and disapparated back to his home.  Going directly to his study, he poured himself a large tumbler of scotch.

“What happened?” Rabastan asked from his place in front of the fire.

 

“Bella is dead,” he said.

 

“Why are you drinking scotch then? Shouldn’t we break out the champagne?” Rab laughed and stood. “You’re finally free brother, seems like something worth celebrating.” He summoned a house elf and ordered just that, champagne and two glasses.

 

“Potter’s mudblood killed her,” he said quietly, eyes pensive.

 

Rabastan’s eyebrows rose. “The little girl Malfoy’s boy loves to rant about?”

 

“She’s not a little girl,” Rodolphus said and sat down, face pensive. No, the witch he’d seen had left childhood behind. She was a young woman, a powerful one at that.

 

“Do tell?”

 

“I could invoke an honour debt.” The words held weight in the air, dangling between them with all the nuanced meanings and consequences associated with it. 

 

“She’s a mudbood Rod, you can’t be serious!” Rabastan looked scandalized.

 

“I need to think on it, but I need an heir, Rabastan. Neither of us are getting any younger, and being fugitives sorely limits our options,” he snapped. “It would have the advantage of her not being able to say no,” he added and scrubbed a hand over his face. 

 

“You think Potter will win.” Rabastan’s eyes narrowed speculatively, head tilting to the side slightly as he studied his older brother. 

 

“I believe it is possible…the child has a preternatural kind of luck, and it’s without contestation that he has bested our Lord more than once. It’s a reality we need to be cognisant of as we move forward. I need to ensure the survival of our line, before any other consideration. A mudblood she might be, but with the right marriages our grandchildren would be pure-bloods. It will take some coercion I’m sure, but I will find a way.” Rod said. “If I choose that path.”

 

“You know I will follow your lead anywhere, I always have.” Rabastan said softly.

 

“I know.” Rod met his brother’s eyes, feeling the responsibility for him all the more intensely. “I imagine the Dark Lord will summon us soon to inform us of Bellatrix’s death.” He had not been part of the raiding party, instructed explicitly against going in fact. He lifted the tumbler to his lips and let the liquor linger on the back of his tongue.

 

The thought of replacing his dead wife so quickly should have been more unsettling, but she’d never really been his wife in anything more than name. The marriage had been arranged by their parents, and both of them sought their pleasures elsewhere. He with any witch that caught his eye on a given night, and she with their Lord. It was something neither man had ever discussed, but he knew that the Dark Lord was grateful that he never made issue of it. There was little point, after all if he had protested, he’d have been killed. Rodolphus had no illusions about that fact, not a single one. That very silence now left him an opening to request something from his ‘master’, something most would not dare. Sitting in silence, if felt like hours before his mark began to burn. He tossed back the remnants of his drink. “Don’t wait up for me,” he said quietly.

 

“Be careful, Rod,” Rabastan said.

 

“I always am,” he replied and headed out of the study, and disapparated.

 

**o.o.O.o.o**

 

Rodolphus appeared in front of Malfoy Manor, and he schooled his features as he headed up the walkway. Entering the house, he spotted a bloodied Lucius Malfoy exiting the drawing room. He inclined his head to the man, who was walking very gingerly. As soon as he entered the drawing room, he gave a slight bow. “You summoned me, my Lord?”

 

“I have, with…grievous news,” the creature that had once been his Lord answered. “Your wife was killed tonight, slain in battle.”

 

Rod’s jaw tightened as if hearing the news for the first time. “Who?” he demanded.

 

“Potter’s pet mudblood, Hermione Granger,” the Dark Lord said without hesitation. “I swear she will suffer unending agonies for this.”

 

“I have a request, my Lord,” Rodolphus said after a moment.

 

“Of course, Rodolphus. Speak it, and if it is within my power to grant…I will.” Voldemort’s voice wrapped around them in the silent room. 

“I never spoke a word against the arrangement you had with my wife. It was an honour that she was the one you chose to take to your bed, but she was *my* wife. I ask that the Granger girl be mine alone to punish, at my complete discretion and in my own way,” Rodolphus said. “I ask that no hand touch her, save mine.” His face was closed off, but he allowed true fury to show in his pale hazel eyes.

 

The Dark Lord was pensive for a long moment. “Done. The girl is yours. I will inform the others of the restriction. You may go,” he dismissed the man.

 

Rodolphus nodded and turned on his heel stalking out of the room. He saw Narcissa and went over. “I am sorry,” he said quietly. His sister-in-law was one of the few good things to come out of the Black family in recent generations. A more elegant, composed witch he had never known.

 

“I lost her a long time ago.” Narcissa reached up and touched his face, her hand soft against the stubble of his cheek. “I am sorry for you loss as well.”

 

“I thank you for you kindness, but I should go. I’m not fit for company tonight.” He took her hand and gave it a polite kiss. “Give your husband my regards.” With her gracious nod he left the house, his shoulders slumping a little. He spotted Snape coming up the path. “Snape.” He said, stepping into the man’s way.

 

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Lestrange?”

 

“Will the girl live?” he asked.

 

Surprise flitted across his face before being shut down hard. “She will. It appears something softened the impact of Dolohov’s curse. She’ll need potions for some time to ensure the curse remains dormant, but she will live,” he said.

 

“Good,” he said simply and walked away, passing through the gate and apparating home. He headed upstairs, feeling every single one of his 37 years. He undressed once he was in his private rooms and padded into the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting the hot water pound down onto his back. He had to be bloody certifiable to be considering this course of action. The girl was a teenager for Circe’s sake, and a mudblood to boot. His father would be turning over in his grave.

 

Shortly after they were married, he and Bellatrix had tried to get pregnant. The results had been a still-born baby girl. He had grieved the loss of the child alone, his wife seeking solace in the arms of their Lord. He had not touched his wife once since that day, by mutual agreement. The fate of the family rested squarely on his shoulders, as much as he liked to tease Rab about finding a wife of his own. Regardless of who he chose, they would not be able to marry openly. It was shameful to have to proceed in the shadows as they were. He turned his head up, letting the spray hit him full in the face.

 

During his confinement in Azkaban, being clean was the luxury he had missed the most. There had never been enough food, and the cold of the North Sea seeped into every fiber of your being. He would die before going back there. His manor was unplottable, and if he had to…he could retreat here. He and the others had been so high on Dark Magic the night of their arrest, they’d been caught off guard. They’d been young, idealistic fools. The shiny appeal of world domination had worn off during his long years in prison. Now he merely wanted to be free, to have a family and watch his children grow. It was not such a terrible thing to want, not after all he had seen and done.

‘You’ll need to force the girl’s hand, and it will not be easy.’ He thought to himself. Rodolphus never shied away from bloodshed or death. They were essential parts of what he’d become, but the thought of blackmailing a young witch into marriage, into his bed…was uncomfortable. By the old laws he had every right to her; she had killed his wife and denied him the chance for an heir. However theoretical that heir might have been, she was bound to take Bellatrix’s place at his side and in his bed. It was a simple thing, not unlike the magic surrounding life debts. All he had to do was voice the debt, and she would be his whether she willed it or not. He rather imagined that in her case it would be ‘not’.

 

He needed information about the girl, from a more unbiased source than Lucius’ boy. He mentally ran through the teenagers that he knew of at the school and settled on young Theodore Nott. He’d met old Thedric’s boy twice since his release, and the teen struck him as incredibly observant. He saw everything, but spoke little. Deciding to write to him, and he would see what could be learned about the Granger girl. If he did it under the guise of plotting his revenge, no one would be the wiser to his plans.  
   
 **o.o.O.o.o**

 

Hermione woke in the Hospital Wing two days after the battle, light stabbing into her eyes. She squeezed her eyelids shut, making a sound of protest. Everything ached, from her toes all the way up to the tips of her ears. All she could remember was a moment of panic as purple flames rushed towards her…and then there had been nothing. She felt the intense light dim and realized that someone had kindly moved a screen to block the sunshine. “Thanks,” she said and opened her eyes slowly, blinking to adjust her eyes to the light of the room.

 

“How are you feeling, Miss Granger?” Professor Snape asked, a concerned expression on his normally stoic face.

 

“Like I was run over by a Hippogriff,” she said and carefully sat up, hissing with discomfort as the movement pulled painfully across her entire midsection. It took a second for it to pass and she took a few careful breaths to wrestle the burning sensation down. “What happened, Professor?”

 

“You were nearly cut in half by a curse Antonin Dolohov threw at you. You are very lucky to be alive, Miss Granger,” he said seriously. “You’ll need to take several potions each day for the next two weeks to ensure the curse remains dormant, but you’re past the worst of it now.”

 

“Is everyone else ok? Did they all make it back?” She asked, dread gripping her heart as she thought of everyone else.

 

“Everyone else is just fine Miss Granger, a few minor injuries that were sorted out quickly. You were by far the worst of the battle wounds,” he reassured her. “The Aurors would like to interview you about the death of Bellatrix Lestrange.”

 

Hermione paled dramatically, the Professor’s words reminding her that she had killed a woman.

 

“You’re not in any trouble, given who she was, you were perfectly justified in defending yourself with lethal force. They simply need an official statement for the record. Professor McGonagall or the Headmaster can stay with you during your interview, if it will make you feel more comfortable,” he offered.

 

“I’ll be fine,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to kill her.”

 

“She would have killed you, don’t ever be ashamed of doing what is necessary to stay alive.” Severus leaned forward, an intense look in his black eyes. She was in so much danger, and he needed her to understand that she was not only justified but advised to use lethal force to defend herself. “Be very careful this summer, Miss Granger. Rodolphus Lestrange has vowed revenge for his wife’s death, and he knows you were the one to kill her. Don’t ever be caught without your wand, and do not hesitate even a single moment if he approaches you.” His tone was deadly serious. “You do not want to be taken alive by that man.”

 

Hermione nodded, understanding the warning.

 

“Now, you need to drink these and then I believe Madame Pomphrey will bring you something to eat. I must tell the Headmaster you’ve woken.” He stood, straightening his robes.

 

“Thank you, Professor.” She obediently drank the three potions down, grimacing at the taste. They were truly vile. He merely nodded and left in a flurry of black robes. Hermione leaned back against the pillows as Madam Pomfrey bustled over, running basic diagnostic scans and clucking her tongue unhappily at the results.

 

“Well…it’s an improvement at least. I’ll get you some food.” She smiled kindly at her.

 

A tray with some chicken soup, buttered rolls, and tea appeared promptly and Madam Pomfrey left her to eat in peace. The food sat like sawdust in her stomach, but she knew that she to try and eat something. She’d killed Bellatrix Lestrange; she could protest that she hadn’t meant to do it…but deep down she knew that was a lie. In that split second she’d known that they’d all be safer if that woman was just dead. At that distance, there was no way that the other witch would have survived it. Hermione had known that, remembered the lecture from Moody in defence last year about seemingly innocuous curses that could be fatal under the right circumstances. Well…Crouch masquerading as Moody.

 

“Hermione?” A voice called from the edge of the curtains, startling her from her darkening thoughts.

 

“Hey Harry, I’m awake,” she called, and saw the curtains part to admit an invisible body and then close again.

 

Harry slipped off the cloak and sat down on the edge of the bed. “They wouldn’t let anyone in to see you,” he said quietly.

 

“I only just woke up a bit ago,” Hermione said. “They told me everyone was ok, were they?”

 

“Yeah, after you went down things got really crazy. The Order showed up and started dueling the Deatheaters, then Voldemort appeared and Dumbledore dueled with him through the whole Ministry while Sirius and Remus got all of us back here to the school. Snape must’ve been there too, he’d brought you back earlier. He and Madam Pomfrey were working behind the curtains on you for hours.” Worry was plain on his face.

 

“Professor Snape, Harry…” she corrected automatically. “He saved my life. Without him, I would have died.” She met his eyes, needing him to understand that Professor Snape was not their enemy. 

 

Harry paled realizing just how close he’d come to losing his best friend. “I’m sorry, Hermione.” He meant it. “I should have listened to you.”

 

“Don’t be sorry Harry, you wanted to save Sirius…but next time, please listen to me. This isn’t a game anymore. People are going to die if you don’t start using your head and start thinking,” she said. “You’re my best friend, and I don’t want you to get killed because you ran off half-cocked. Promise me you’ll start thinking.”

 

“I promise,” he whispered.

 

She slipped her hand into his and squeezed it hard. “As for making it up to me….think you could sneak my book bag in here?” She winked.

 

“That I can do.” He gave her a small smile. “Sirius also may have mentioned that anything you want from the Black Library…name it and it’s yours.”

 

Her eyes lit up at the mere thought of it. “Tell him to expect an owl.” She grinned. “Now go, before you get caught,” Hermione said.

 

“I’ll be back later with your bag,” he promised and stood, throwing the cloak over himself and sneaking out.


	2. Chapter 2

**o.o.O.o.o**

 

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. The relentless noise roused the sleeping wizard, forcing him to open a single eye to glare at the disturbance that had interrupted his few hours of sleep. An owl waited on the window sill, pecking insistently on the glass. Rodolphus groaned, but pried himself out of bed and went over, opening the window and taking the letter. The bird did not linger. He recognized the Nott seal, and he headed over to the bed and laid back down, breaking the heavy red wax. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and tried to focus on the words.

 

 

_Lord Lestrange,_

 

_First, let me express my condolences on behalf of myself and my father for the loss of your wife. I was quite surprised to receive your letter, but I will try to answer your query as completely as possible. You may of course be assured of my discretion._ _Hermione Granger has been my classmate for five years here at school, and while we do not share every class, she has been in all of my electives. For obvious reasons I do not socialize with her outside of the classroom aside from the occasional interaction while studying in the Library, but I have had the opportunity to observe her socially from time to time. She is exceptionally intelligent, and has a truly remarkable memory. Professor Snape often chides her for repeating the texts verbatim, but she is honestly able to recall just about anything she reads. She is proficient in her spell work, and dedicates herself to perfecting anything she attempts. This has landed her in the top five of every single class she takes, the exception being DADA. From what I have heard, she tends to struggle somewhat in situations where improvisation is required._

 

_She took every single class available to her in third year, though dropped Muggle Studies and Divination by her fourth year. Miss Granger is undoubtedly the brains of Potter’s little band of friends, though why they tolerate the youngest Weasley boy is beyond me. From what I’ve seen that boy waffles between jealousy of Potter’s fame and Granger’s intelligence. She seems to keep a lot to herself, and wants to prove that she’s as good we are. It’s almost as if she thinks that if she passes every test, and is the best at everything, that we’ll forget what she is. She still doesn’t understand that she’ll never be anything more than a clever mudblood. When she’s not with Potter, she lives in the Library and books are certainly her greatest pleasure._

  
_If I were to name her greatest weakness, I would say that it’s likely her muggle family. She speaks very fondly of them, and seems to have a stable, supportive home-life. At the core, despite the brash and at times bossy front, I believe she is deeply insecure. It explains why she always tries to overcompensate with her intellect. She is socially awkward, and other than her rather odd romance with Viktor Krum last year, I have never seen her with anyone else. Her relationship with Potter seems quite platonic, almost akin to familial._   
_If you require any further insights, please owl me._

_T. E. Nott_

 

Rodolphus tapped the parchment against his lower lip while he considered what the young wizard had written. A contact within the ministry had been able to provide more general biographical data on her, age, address, and her official academic records. On the surface she was an exceptional young witch, unfortunate breeding aside. In the past witches of her level of talent had often been greatly sought after as a valuable source of unrelated blood. The last century of protectionism had only hurt the pureblood families, fewer children were being born and those that did survive had higher odds of being squibs than they did even two hundred years ago. Fertility was often the first thing to suffer in a restricted bloodline, he knew enough about breeding in animals to be aware of that. Sometimes an outcross was needed to restore vigor.

 

‘You’re talking about a witch like she’s a bloody krup, for Merlin’s sake.’ He chided himself and got up, preparing for the day. Pausing in front of the mirror a moment, Rodolphus stared deep into it seeing only a shadow of the man he’d been before Azkaban. His muscles were wasted from years of forced idleness and poor nutrition, his face was still gaunt and haunted. It would take time to return him to his former self. He was reluctant to alter his clothing, wanting to wait until he’d recovered more before giving up and taking everything in.

 

The Dark Lord had been lenient with him, and the other Azkaban escapees. He knew that would not last for much longer now that he had been confirmed as ‘Back’. While they had homes in Britain, he preferred the relative safety of the Chateau in Northern France. It was an easy distance to apparate from London, and he’d always felt much more at home here than any other property. He padded down the winding staircases, the weight of the world settled on his shoulders. He saw his brother sitting at the table, having breakfast all ready.

 

“Good morning, little brother.” He smiled, a bit of fondness sneaking into his tone. Rabastan was only two years younger than he was, and he’d always felt protective of him. Even now, after everything that had happened, he had a hard time seeing Rab as anything more than the kid that had chased around after him all his years at Hogwarts.

 

“Morning Rod,” he said. “Sleep well?” Rabastan was lounging in his pajamas and a slightly oversized dressing robe.

 

“Well enough, I think I’m finally getting used to being in a bed again.” The transition from icy stone floors to plush feather mattresses had been difficult, to say the least. Coffee appeared by his hand, and was most gratefully consumed.

 

“Think the nightmares will ever stop?” Rabastan asked quietly.

 

“Maybe one day, Rab.” Rodolphus stared down into his coffee. Deep down he wasn’t entirely sure any of them deserved respite from the terrors in their dreams, not after all they had done. “I’ll be in London for a few days, there are some things I need to attend to,” he announced after a moment.

 

“What things?” Rabastan frowned, a crease marring his forehead.

 

“Personal things,” he said flatly. He watched muscle in his brother’s jaw work as he debated whether or not to say anything else. It was far too easy to get a rise out of Rab these days, his patience and temper often hanging by a thread. “I’ll be careful.” He promised, working through the rather large breakfast the elves had sent up for him. Rosy and Dilly had been overjoyed with their return, and tended to fuss over the brothers…when they allowed it.

 

“If it’s about the girl, just say so. It’s your life Rod, if that’s what you feel you need to do…I won’t say another word against it,” Rabastan said, feeling mentally exhausted. “My only concern is for you, you know that. Do you really wish to bind yourself to another witch that doesn’t want to be yours?” His haunted eyes met his brother’s, both the same eerie shade of hazel, a swirl of green and gold.

 

“What I want doesn’t matter, it never has.” He gave Rabastan a sad smile, this was an old argument. “My first responsibility is to the family, and now that I am free of Bella…I can make provisions for its survival, regardless of the war’s outcome. The Dark Lord has already agreed that she is mine to do with as I please, so if we prevail he will say nothing. If we lose, at least I will have a wife and hopefully an heir. The circumstances make it such that the Ministry cannot contest the union, all of the laws support it.” He’d read over the legislative books until early this morning, and the legal precedents were in his favour. By current law, he had the right to use any means to obtain reparations from Miss Granger for the loss of his wife.

 

Rabastan nodded quietly. One look Rod’s face, and knew there was no talking him out of this. “Just remember that she is very young brother, and I doubt she’s ever killed anyone before. Unless Hogwarts has changed a great deal since the days when we were students,” he snorted a little. “You remember how that feels, the first time,” he said, tone sobering again. 

 

“I do,” he replied. You never forgot the first time you took a life, no matter how many others followed that first death…it was always the one imprinted deepest in your mind. “I won’t make any moves just yet, I need to see the lay of the land before I act.” He had eaten his fill, so he pushed his plate away. “If you need to reach me, I will be at the London house. Will you be able to manage if I take Dilly with me?”

Rabastan nodded. “I hardly think I need two elves to mind me in your absence.” He drawled.

 

“Then I will leave you to it.” He stood, leaving his brother to his own devices.

 

**o.o.O.o.o**

 

Hermione was sitting up in her hospital bed with Professor McGonagall beside her, watching as the Aurors came in to question her. While she had told Professor Snape she’d be fine facing them, as the actual interview approached her nerves got the better of her and she’d nearly begged the Deputy Headmistress to sit with her. Her Head of House had been all too happy to do so, and her presence was certainly calming. She didn’t recognize either of the two Aurors walking towards her, and they looked extremely serious. She swallowed nervously as they stood at the foot of her bed.

 

“Miss Granger, I’m Auror Proudfoot, and this is Auror Dawlish. I hope you’re recovering from your injuries?” The younger of the two men smiled at her politely.

 

“I am thank you,” she said quietly. Unable to keep completely still, her fingers twisted a bit of the bedsheet. 

 

“I understand this must be very frightening for you, but we just need to know what happened between you and Bellatrix Lestrange,” Proudfoot continued. “We already have statements from the others detailing why you went to the Ministry, and that the Death Eaters attacked you all.”

 

“I was with Harry, and there were curses flying everywhere. I saw Bellatrix aim at Harry’s back, while he was fending off someone else. I shoved him out of the way and cast a reducto at her without thinking about the consequences at that range. I didn’t mean to kill her…” she whispered, feeling tears well up in her eyes. It was a lie, a horrible filthy lie. She was a murderer.

 

Dawlish noted it down. “Miss Granger, Bellatrix Lestrange was an escaped fugitive and considered extremely dangerous. You were well within your rights even as an under-aged witch to have used lethal force against her to protect yourself. You are not in any trouble,” he said seeing just how upset she was. Both the Matron and Headmaster had been adamant that they not aggravate her injuries by subjecting her to any more stress than was necessary.

 

“I’m sorry I just…” she trailed off and accepted a handkerchief from Professor McGonagall, wiping the tears from her eyes. The rational part of her brain was telling her that she was being ridiculous, but a tiny voice in the back of her mind was screaming that they knew she was lying, that they KNEW she’d killed the other witch on purpose.

 

“It’s quite all right, Miss Granger. Now, do you know the identity of the wizard who cursed you?” Proudfoot prompted the young woman gently. “No one else was able to give us that information.”

 

“I believe it was Antonin Dolohov, at least from what I remember from the pictures in the newspaper,” Hermione said quietly, shuddering a little as she remembered the furious snarl on the wizard’s face as he’d raised his wand. The harsh slash and corresponding purple fire had burned itself into her memory, just as surely as his curse had branded itself across her flesh.

 

“Thank you. We were able to apprehend some of them, but Dolohov was one of the Death Eaters that escaped that night. If we need anything further for the official record, we’ll contact you by owl to request another interview. Feel better,” Proudfoot said, glad it was so open and shut. No one was sad to see that crazy bitch dead, girl deserved a medal for it if you asked him.

 

“Thank you.” Hermione said, not really relaxing until they were gone. As the door to the Hospital Wing closed behind them, she sagged back down against the bed.

 

“I’m very proud of you, Miss Granger,” Minerva said and touched her shoulder. “You protected your friends, and tried to keep a cool head in a very dangerous situation.”

 

“Thank you Professor.” She felt very overwhelmed. “Do you know when I’ll be allowed to go home?”

 

“I’m not sure, but I’ll check with Madam Pomfrey for you. You should rest for a bit, you look so very pale.” Minerva stood and smoothed her trademark green robes, a motherly expression on her face.

 

“Yes Professor,” she agreed and wiggled down in the bed obediently. Truthfully she was exhausted, and glad that the Aurors hadn’t pressed her for much else. The curse scar throbbed painfully, but there were still a few more hours before her next round of potions. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the now familiar throbbing and just rest as much as she could.

 

Professor Snape was the one to come and check on her some time later. “Miss Granger?”

 

“Professor Snape.” She opened her eyes and sat up carefully. She’d never seen her surly Potions Professor so…nice before, and it made her realize just how badly hurt she must have been. Over the years she and the boys had always thought the worst of him, and every time they were proven wrong. She remembered last year when she’d overheard the Headmaster sending Professor Snape to Voldemort, and she’d finally understood everything so much better. He was the Order’s spy, and as such he could never publically appear to be sympathetic to Harry, or a muggleborn witch. His efforts to protect them all spoke clearly to her, even if he could never say it in words. 

 

“How are you feeling?” he enquired solicitously, dark eyes raking over her for any signs that the curse was taking hold again. 

 

“The scar is throbbing,” she admitted. It was a searing line of heat across her sternum and down to the top of her hipbone. Every time the potions started wearing off the heat would start building, like she was standing too close to a fire.

 

“Take this first, and then these two,” he instructed. The tip of his wand traced an intricate set of movements over her chest, and he watched a swirl of light as she consumed the potions. The colours changed and seemed to stabilize with each additional vial she downed. “That seems to be the correct combination. I’ll leave you a pain relieving draught, and you can take two sips of it whenever the scar begins to throb again.” He seemed to look relieved. “This was a most challenging curse to combat.”

 

“How long will I need to stay here in the infirmary?” She asked. As much as she loved Hogwarts, she really just wanted to be home with her parents.

 

“As long as this combination of potions works to keep your pain managed, you’ll be able to go home in a couple of days. I’ll get you a transport box, and it will allow me to keep you supplied with potions regardless of where you are,” he said, giving her a small smile.

 

“That’s good news.” Hermione relaxed as the pain melted away, leaving her feeling boneless and comfortable. A wave of drowsiness hit her, and she didn’t even try to fight it. Choosing easy surrender, her eyelids closed and she slipped easily into a drugged, dreamless sleep. 

 

“Get some rest Miss Granger, I’ll check on you again after dinner.” Professor Snape stood and swept out of the Hospital Wing, leaving the young witch to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**o.o.O.o.o**

 

During his incarceration in Azkaban, it was clear that much had changed in Muggle London. Rodolphus was relearning to hide in plain sight here, and it was more challenging than he recalled. Fashion had taken a rather dramatic leap and muggle technology was worlds away from what he remembered. Thankfully, restricting his movements to the later hours of the night had proved to be sufficient to avoid too much attention. Most of the old pureblood families in the British Isles had a home somewhere within London proper, and the Lestranges were no different. This had been his mother’s preferred residence, and much of his childhood had been spent here within these walls. His father had preferred to reside at the Chateaux while he conducted his research, but would join them on weekends and over holidays. It was located in Westminster, near Queen Anne’s Gate, and while not much to look at from the street, some of London’s elite lived in close proximity.

 

Ensconced in his father’s study, papers littered the desk detailing the life of the young witch that Rodolphus was hunting. She was an only child, living in an upper middle-class area just on the edges of London. Her parents were some muggle type of Healer, and clearly well respected in their chosen field. The only small consolation to Rodolphus’ conscience was that Miss Granger would be of age in a few short months. It made him feel like slightly less of a monster, but only slightly. He was still twenty some odd years her senior. It was on the very edge between acceptable and scandalous, only his position as Lord of an Ancient and Noble house managed to keep it on the correct side.

 

Leaning back in his chair, Rod’s eyes studied the ceiling, mapping out his course of action. Subjecting himself to yet another antagonistic relationship was just about the very last thing he wanted, his brother was absolutely correct about that. Somehow there had to be a way to convince her to marry him, without causing her to hate him. The light from the fireplace cast dancing shadows around the room, and his mind chased down several paths, playing out each scenario in his mind. A smile curved over his lips as he found his solution, it would be challenging, but all worthwhile endeavors were.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

The cab pulled up at the curb and the driver helped the young woman get her trunk out of the boot. She paid him and thanked him with a bright smile as she headed up the walkway to her front door. The handle gave easily under Hermione’s touch, and her mood brightened even more. Normally her parents were at work at this hour, but having them here to greet her would be a very nice surprise. She’d missed them so much over the school year. Now the nightmare of Umbridge, and the Department of Mysteries was behind her and she could just enjoy being with her family.

 

“Mum? Dad?” she called while she opened Crookshank’s carrier and let him bound off through the house. Not hearing the expected reply, Hermione frowned and went searching for them. She checked the garage and found their car, parked in its usual place. She checked the family room, and was greeted by only silence, everything in its proper place. A sense of dread began to grow as she climbed the stairs, grabbing hold of her throat and starting to squeeze. A tremor started to overtake her hand as she drew her wand, checking her bedroom first. Nothing appeared to be disturbed, and Crookshanks was reclaiming his favourite patch of sunshine on her window seat.

 

The bathroom was equally empty, and that left only her parent’s bedroom. Tears started building, and she prayed desperately that they were ok. She flung the door open and found the bed sitting there, neatly made. There was an envelope sitting innocuously in the center of the blue duvet. Her name was written in elegant script. She sat down on the bed, barely able to break the wax seal.

_Miss Hermione Granger,_

_By now you’ve doubtlessly discovered that your parents are missing, and I am quite certain that you are imagining the worst. Let me take this moment to reassure you that I have not harmed them in any way, merely taken them somewhere safe. They are under the impression that they are on a lovely extended vacation. I merely took them to gain your attention, and provided you don’t do anything regrettable they will remain in their current state of good health._

_I understand that you are still recovering from Dolohov’s attack, and I am certain that Severus’ potions will soon have you right as rain. I was there that night, in the Department of Mysteries. I saw Bellatrix fall to your wand, and I saw you dueling Antonin. I cast protego maxima between the two of you when he sent his favourite curse towards you. I am the reason you’re still breathing. I saved your life, even after you’d taken my wife’s. Let that sink in for a moment, Miss Granger._

_By the old laws of our world, you owe me a rather sizeable debt. Even if you dispute the life-debt, there is the one owed to me for the killing of my wife. Because she died before providing me with an heir, your family is bound with the responsibility of providing me with a new wife. As you are the only witch in your family, you must agree to marry me and become the new Lady Lestrange. This piece of law is still valid, and under British Wizarding Law I may use any means to compel you to fulfill this honour debt, up to and including force. I have no wish for things to progress to that point, but that decision rests solely in your hands._

_You are, from what I have been able to gather, an intelligent young woman. Surely you can see the benefits to approaching this with some dignity. You would gain title, wealth, and protection. It is rare that an Ancient and Noble house would consider someone of your descent as a prospective Lady, but given the circumstances I have few choices available to me. This could all be done quite quietly, without any slander coming to your name. I have no wish to interfere with your education, and providing we come to certain agreements, I would happily support you in the pursuit of masteries or research once you complete your schooling at Hogwarts._

_I propose a meeting on July the 7 th. That should give you sufficient time to finish recovering from your injuries. An owl will deliver a port key for you that morning, and to activate it merely say ‘portus’. I give you my word that no harm will come to you at this meeting, and I will provide proof of your parent’s well-being at that time. In the interim, I do not suggest telling anyone about our little arrangement, I would hate to have to kill your family should the Order try to prevent you from coming to me._

_With Regards,_

_Lord Rudolphus Etienne Lestrange_

Hermione felt ill, and let the letter fall from her hands. She walked to the window and looked out, the day seeming so bright and normal…but nothing would be normal again. 

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

There was an insistent knocking at the front door, and Sirius frowned as he went to answer it. The house was still under Fidelius, but most members of the Order would simply apparate in or use the floo. He opened the door to see Hermione standing there, soaked through from the storm raging outside. The frown on his face deepened as he took in the stricken look on her face.

 

“Hermione? Come in, get out of the weather.” He hurried her inside and took her straight through to the kitchen, casting a drying charm over her and summoned a blanket to tuck around her shoulders. “What’s happened?” She looked horrible, and something told him that there was something very wrong.  

 

“I…is anyone else here Sirius?” Hermione asked, being very careful. She bit her bottom lip, eyes casting nervously around the room.   

 

“No, Remus is off running a mission for Dumbledore and there isn’t a meeting planned for a while yet,” he answered, his concern growing exponentially.  

 

“I need you swear an Oath, to not tell anyone I was here…or what I need to ask you about.” She said, desperation filling her eyes.  

 

“Hermione if something’s wrong just tell me, you can trust me.” Sirius said, trying to coax the information out of her. Something had clearly spooked her badly.

 

“I need you to swear, on your magic.” Hermione insisted, getting a determined set to her jaw.

 

Relenting, Sirius lifted his wand. “I swear on my magic to not tell anyone about your visit, or anything we discuss today.” A gold light flared from his wand tip, sealing the oath. “Now I think you should tell me what this is about.”

 

“What can you tell me about honour debts?” She asked him. There had been a tiny reference in one of her history texts, but nothing in any of her other books. The last three days had seen her pour over every single book she owned only to come up completely empty.

 

Sirius took a deep breath. “That is old magic, Hermione. Where did you hear about them?” Something about her tone was giving him a very bad feeling about this line of questioning.

 

“Rodolphus Lestrange has claimed one against me, for the death of his wife.” She said softly, meeting his eyes. “He claims I’ve robbed him of the chance of an heir.” She felt honestly ill at the mere thought of this. There had to be a way out.

 

Sirius swore and closed his eyes a moment. “You’ve seen him?”

 

“No….he took my parents and left me a letter.” She said, feeling tears rising in her eyes. “He says I have to marry him, and that he has the right to force me if I don’t agree. Please tell me he’s lying,” she all but begged.  

 

“He’s telling the truth. It’s an archaic, horrible law, but it’s true. During the aftermath of Grindelwald’s fall, there were many marriages to satisfy honour debts. Some were…reluctant to comply and things were done,” he whispered. “My Aunt Dorea told me some of the stories. I have some books in the Library you should read, and I’ll give them to you before you go.” He took a deep breath. “Kreacher…tea for two,” he ordered.

 

The elderly house elf came in, muttering his usual vitriol but Hermione ignored it. “I don’t have a choice do I?” She felt utterly helpless and she hated it.

 

“No. The minute you killed her, the debt was created. All he had to do was call it in, either in words or writing. The moment you read that letter the obligation was sealed. However you do have choices to make Hermione. You have to marry him, but you can force him to go through a traditional courtship period. Now, the first step will be a contract negotiation. You do not need to sign the first thing he hands you. Read through it carefully, and make certain you understand it in full. You can request changes, and both of you need to be in agreement over the final draft.” Sirius was dying inside but she need to be aware before she met with him. He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated at the whole bloody mess.

 

“Once it is signed, he will be required to present you with a betrothal gift. Usually it is a bracelet or necklace, and it can only be removed at the marriage ceremony when it is replaced with your wedding band.” He told her. “Betrothal jewelry is usually very resistant to glamours or concealment charms, so most purebloods will know that you are formally betrothed, but it would be considered extremely bad manners for them to comment on it. If they press you, inform them that is none of their concern. They won’t expect you to understand the rules, and reproaching them will earn you respect.”

 

“I can’t do this Sirius, you’re supposed to marry someone you love…he *hates* people like me. He serves Voldemort and has probably murdered dozens of muggle-borns.” She wanted to be sick. When Sirius’ hand covered hers, Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin.

 

“Arranged marriages are fairly common in our world, Hermione. He might not like muggleborns, but there is an expectation of behaviour for him and you. The minute you sign that contract, he is honour bound to defend you from all harm, even from his master. He will have to treat you with respect, provide for you, and meet any obligations laid out for him in your contract.” He squeezed her hand. “If I could save you from this, I would. I’d offer you safe haven here, but I know you won’t take it.” If Rodolphus didn’t have her parents it would be a different situation, but the bastard had been smart.

 

“He has my parents…I can’t.” She whispered, feeling the tears spill down her face. She couldn’t stop them.  

 

Sirius got up and went around the table, pulling the slender young witch into his arms and holding her while she sobbed into his chest. He’d become rather fond of Hermione since she’d helped rescue him two years ago. Killing his least favourite cousin was actually a huge point in her favour as far as he was concerned, though the fall out was something he’d save her from if he could. “It will be all right in the end…somehow.” He whispered into her hair. He’d known Rodolphus during their years at school, and while frighteningly intelligent, he’d never been prone to casual cruelty like the Averys and McNairs of the world. All he could hope for was that the other wizard’s motives for this were genuine, and not some convoluted plan of the Dark Lord’s to strike at Harry’s base of support. What he did know was that he’d do whatever he could to make this easier for Hermione, and that meant arming her with as much information as he could before she had to face Lestrange.


	4. Chapter 4

**o.o.O.o.o**

 

The remaining days between her trip to Grimmauld Place and July 7th were filled with the books that Sirius had given her. Three massive tomes filled with information on wizarding courtship, marriage bonds, and magical debts. Crookshanks was her constant companion as she filled countless rolls of parchment with her notes. Now that she was finished reading, she understood why Sirius had capitulated so quickly. The only way she could get out of this was to run, and hope he never found her. She’d be unable to kill him, due to the nature of the debt. The only good news was that after he signed the betrothal contract, he would be unable to kill her too.

 

Preparing for her meeting, Hermione set out a big bowl of food for Crookshanks and made sure the house was locked up. She’d dressed carefully, wanting to face this at least looking more confident than she felt. She’d carefully dried her hair, working a little hair potion into the damp curls. It had been a gift from Lavender, and it did usually keep her hair somewhat tamed. She was wearing black dress pants and a dark blue dress shirt with wide cuffs that came down over her hands. Sadly, her wardrobe lacked much wizarding casual wear. A wand holster was fitted to her forearm under her shirt. Never before had she been so happy to have splurged on it.

 

Breakfast had been skipped, Hermione’s nerves wound too tightly to risk putting food in her stomach. The persistent tapping on her window made anxiety surge through her as she opened the window and the bird dropped small stone carving onto the kitchen island. She carefully picked it up and gripped it tightly. “I’ll be back as soon as I can Crooks. Portus,” she said clearly and there was a sickening hook behind her navel and Hermione was being yanked through space.

 

Despite wanting to look calm and collected, Hermione hit the ground in a sprawl trying hard not to be ill. She hated portkeys and couldn’t wait to get her apparating license. It was a near thing, but she managed to resist the urge to swear.

 

“Allow me, Miss Granger.” A smooth voice broke the silence, and Rodolphus offered the fallen witch a hand up.

 

Hermione swallowed, and made herself reach out and accept his help. The urge to slap his hand away and hex him within an inch of his life was undeniably there, but she shoved it down. So far he’d been mostly courteous, if you could ignore the simple fact that he’d kidnapped her parents. She took a moment to look at him, having only ever seen his Azkaban photograph. While it was clear he was not recovered from his stint in the wizarding prison, he was actually fairly attractive. His eyes were hazel, and his hair was a deep brunette tending near to black but yet not. During her not so subtle appraisal of him, it was clear that Rodolphus was returning the favour.  

 

“Where are my parents?” Hermione finally found her voice, pulled her hand out of his grasp.

 

“They are currently at one of my family’s summer homes in Provence. I have photographs in the sitting room. Once our negotiations are complete, I will return them home. I give you my word on that,” he said gently.

 

Hermione nodded quietly, assuming that was likely the best she would get out of him. “I didn’t mean to kill your wife.”

 

“While I appreciate that, it changes nothing in this situation.” Rodolphus’ cool eyes hinted at nothing. “Please follow me, my elf will have tea ready for us as I imagine you may need something to calm your nerves.” He gestured down the hallway.

 

Unlike Grimmauld Place, this house was light and airy. The windows let in the sunlight and it played off the light wood and bright paint on the walls. The carpets were in shades of cream and gold, and Hermione found herself somewhat more at ease than she had been the first time she’d visited Sirius’ home. He opened door to their right and she was shown into a sitting room. Pausing in the doorway, she collected herself and tried to supress the urge to run.

 

“Please sit down,” Rodolphus asked and took a seat in one of the chairs across from the loveseat, both were covered in a soft blue material and embroidered in gold. It was actually very pretty, but clearly not something a man would have chosen. Hermione sat down on the loveseat and visibly jumped as a full tea service popped up on the delicately carved wooden table between them.

 

“First, photographs of your parents.” He handed her a slender envelope. He had to use all of his manners to not laugh at her as she jumped around like a skittish moon calf. 

 

With shaky hands, Hermione opened the envelope and pulled out the pictures. They had been shot with the corner of a Daily prophet in frame so that she could be certain of the date. She touched the pictures and had to close her eyes for a long moment to compose herself. “Thank you,” she managed to say.

 

“What do you prefer in your tea?” He asked her.

 

“Just a little honey and milk.” She responded, putting the pictures aside reluctantly. The forced normalcy of the situation made her want to scream and run away, but she made herself accept the tea cup from him. It really was very good tea.

 

Rodolphus could see just how nervous the young witch was, and he did regret that taking her parents had caused so much distress. It was unusual for muggle-born witches and wizards to maintain strong family ties, particularly after so many years at Hogwarts. “I’m not certain how much you know about arranged matches in our world, but if you have questions I would be happy to try and address them now.”

 

“I’ve been doing as much reading as I could over the week,” she said. “I understand the contract negotiations can be a drawn out process, how did you want to tackle that?”

 

Relieved that he did not need to explain everything, he sipped his own tea. “I would propose you stay here for the week, in your own suite of course, and that way we can work on the contract until it’s something we are both comfortable with. Staying here would also allow us to perhaps get to know one another. After that’s been settled, I can collect your parents and return them home.” He leaned back.

 

“I’d need to go home and collect some things if I’m going to be staying.” Hermione said. “I can’t leave my familiar alone that long.”

 

He nodded. “Of course, I’d be happy to apparate you there and back after dinner. We can start with the contract after we finish our tea.”

 

“Why would you do this? I’m muggleborn, and you’re a Death Eater. You shouldn’t want anything to do with me.” She asked, giving propriety the proverbial finger for the moment. She’d been polite enough to make her teeth hurt, given the situation, and she wanted a little blunt honesty.

 

“Fourteen years in Azkaban will let anyone re-evaluate their priorities. Not all of us were fanatical blood purists, though of course we all felt a certain understandable superiority. My father was the Dark Lord’s schoolmate, and they shared a dorm for years. I grew up with the man at our dinner table, and it was always expected that I would be one of his. He is not the man I grew up revering, and I am not the same man that knelt before him and took the Dark Mark. As for why you specifically…I feel after doing some digging, that you’d have something to offer the Lestrange line. You are intelligent, talented, and more powerful than I think you know. The biggest upside is that I won’t have to share you with the Dark Lord,” he drawled.

 

Her eyes widened. “You mean Bellatrix…”

 

“Has been fucking the Dark Lord since long before we married, yes,” he answered, completely unabashed. “She was also insane before we ended up in prison, and I assure you that it did not improve her mental stability. Even taking your blood into account, I’m trading up.” Amusement made his face light up, the emotionless mask melting a little.

 

“But she was your wife, I thought fidelity was built into most marriage bonds.” Hermione frowned. Everything she’d read had been adamant about the nasty curses usually attached to those fidelity bonds.

 

“Usually, yes. Though Bellatrix flat out refused to sign it, and in the end our parents bent to the Dark Lord’s will and simply removed that clause from our contract. I was free to seek my pleasure where I chose, but so was she.” A hint of bitterness coloured his voice.

 

Hermione could well imagine how that had felt, to have an affair like that rubbed in your face for years. It must have been horrid. “I’m sorry.” She said quietly, stunned that she felt ANY sympathy for this man.

 

“I knew what I was getting into Miss Granger, though the sentiment is again appreciated.” He said quietly. “Unfortunately, you’ll find I’ve learned from the errors of my youth and I’ll not be made a mockery of again.” He set his tea down. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll grab the contract from my study and you can peruse it.” Rod took a deep breath as he left the teenaged witch behind. Rabastan was right, he was certifiably insane. Perhaps he should just head to the Janus Thickley ward right now. The desire to vent his frustrations over Bella on this girl was certainly there, but he ruthlessly strangled it down.

 

This initial contract was as generous as he could afford to make it for the girl. She had not chosen this, and while he was not above taking advantage of the situation, Rodolphus wanted to try and be reasonable. She had not grown up in a pureblood household, so certain things would appear out of line to her a first blush but hopefully they could work through them. He returned to the sitting room to see that Dilly had brought the girl some breakfast.

 

“She’ll be pleased to have someone to dote on,” he remarked as he entered the room. “Dilly’s been my elf since I was a child.”

 

Hermione nodded. “She’s very…persuasive.” The little creature had been fussing at her to eat something.

 

“Dilly will see to anything you need, and likely a few things you don’t while you’re here. That is the first draft of the contract, and I’ll explain anything that you find confusing,” he said, and helped himself to one of the breakfast sandwiches.

 

Hermione began to read through the contract. The language was fairly straight forward, but the amount of things covered in it was…daunting. The beginning was the easiest, given the fact that she was muggleborn, Rodolphus waived any requirement of a dowry from her family. ‘Big of him, considering he’s holding my parents ransom to gain my co-operation…’ she thought uncharitably. He proposed a date for the wedding, having it take place over the Yule holiday, and it would have to be held at the Lestrange Chateau. He would require she spend the holiday in its entirety with him there, in lieu of a traditional honeymoon period. The word ‘consummation’ seemed to float off the page, demanding her attention. Nausea came over her in a wave and she had to close her eyes, taking a deep breath before opening her eyes again.

 

Stomach wrestled back under control she returned to the contract. The next section was purely financial. She’d receive a monthly stipend of 10,000 galleons per month, her own personal vault, and would have complete control over the London townhome. In the event of his death or incarceration, she would receive full access to all the vaults and properties. There was a fair bit of difficulty wrapping her head around that kind of money, and she felt a little bit strange about it honestly.

 

A blush began creeping up her neck during the next section that detailed sex, fidelity, and heirs. The expectation was that she would share his bed until they had guaranteed that she had conceived, after which she’d be allowed to take a potion to place the pregnancy in stasis. She frowned a little. “A pregnancy can be placed in stasis?” She looked up at him, realizing he’d been watching her intently.

 

“Yes, for up to three years. It will prevent the pregnancy from being harmed by any means, either magical, physical, or through potions. Only a specific potion can restart the pregnancy. It’s been used often through times of war, and is perfectly safe. It’s also been used once or twice to prevent a witch from being forced to leave her studies prematurely, but only if she seeks aide promptly. It must be consumed within two weeks of conception.” Rodolphus explained. “I was quite serious about not wishing to interfere with your schooling.”

 

Hermione nodded, trying to hear him past the sound of blood rushing in her ears. “And what if I don’t…over the holiday?” She asked.

 

“Then you will come to me over the spring break, and we will try again.” Rodolphus said, seeing how close she was to falling apart. He got up and went over, crouching down in front of her and touching her hand. “You’re handling this far better than I thought, so I don’t begrudge you a break down here and there. I’m sure I’ll have one or two of my own.” He admitted.

 

Those words drew a tearful laugh from Hermione, and she wiped away a few errant tears. “This just feels so…unreal.”

 

“I suppose it must,” He said, hazel eyes regarding her. “I’m not the monster you imagine me to be, or that I’ve been portrayed as. Not that I’m trying to pass myself off as some paragon of virtue either. I am just a man, Miss Granger. We find ourselves on opposite sides in a war, but that doesn’t mean that there cannot be civility and respect between us.” He patted her hand gently and stood. “My marriage to Bellatrix was sadly lacking in both those areas, and I hope to remedy that this time around.”

 

“Did you love her?” Hermione found herself asking, unsure what prompted it.

 

“No. She loved the Dark Lord, and Bellatrix was not exactly the type of witch to engender soft feelings,” he said simply. “We married because our parents arranged it, and unfortunately we never grew together as a couple the way it was expected we would. She was too much in love with another man, and I could never forgive her for that.”

 

Hermione nodded, trying to understand. “Why do you follow him?” she asked softly.

 

“That is none of your business, Miss Granger.” He said, face suddenly expressionless. “I suggest you finish reading over the contract.”

 

Hermione flinched a little at the sharpness of his tone and dropped her eyes back to the paper on her lap. She felt a blush creep up her cheeks as she continued to read. The fidelity clause was very precise, but there was an exception. If he were to be incarcerated, and providing she had produced a legitimate heir, she would be free to seek her pleasures wherever she saw fit. After the requirement of an heir was satisfied, the contract was clear that she had the right to refuse him access to her body. She found that a little strange considering the contract clearly spelled out that neither of them were allowed to take lovers outside of the marriage. She continued to read and finally she reached the end and she fixed him with a strange look.

 

“Why make this so favourable for me?” She asked him quietly. “I have no choice, you could demand just about anything and I’d have little recourse.”

 

“Because you have no choice.” He answered simply. “If you’ll come with me, I will show you to your room and you can rest, and make any amendments you desire. I assure you that as long as they’re reasonable, I will agree to them.” He stood.

 

Hermione felt even more confused than before, but she followed him upstairs to the second floor. He opened the suite for her. The room was decorated largely in white with soft blue and gold accents. The massive windows let the light stream in, making the room feel much larger than it was. 

 

“Just call for Dilly if you need anything, there are quills and ink at the desk.” Rodolphus said and shut the door behind him as he left.

 

Hermione walked across the room and sat down at the desk, spreading the contract out and then getting her notes from her bag. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to still the emotions swirling through her. This was nothing like she’d been expecting, there had been no threats, no violence, and not even a single slur against her. The utter disparity between expectation and reality had left her reeling. He didn’t appear to be some kind of depraved monster, and she didn’t know what to believe. Regardless of what he was, she was going to have to marry this wizard. Merlin, she’d have to sleep with him.

 

That thought made her stand and pace up and down the room, panic settling around her. She’d never done more than kiss, and even then only with Viktor. He’d been such a bloody gentleman it had driven her nearly insane. Why couldn’t he have been more forward? Then she wouldn’t be facing *this* utterly unprepared. Hot salty tears slipped down her cheeks. She didn’t want to, not with someone like him. A little pop startled her.

 

“Would young Missy like some hot chocolate?”

 

Hermione wiped at her tears, looking at the little House Elf. She was wearing a pretty gold and blue shift, it was clean and clearly new. She looked well taken-care of compared to the likes of Winky and Dobby. “Is your name Dilly?”

 

“Yes Missy, Master Roddy asked Dilly to take care of you.” She said. “Chocolate will make you feel better Missy, sit sit.” The elf hustled her over to an overstuffed armchair in front of the fire place. A snap of her fingers and a little table appeared beside the chair, with a mug of hot chocolate and some little shortbread biscuits beside it.

 

“You said your Master ‘asked’ you to take care of me? Not ordered?” She frowned, remembering Dobby telling her how the followers of Voldemort treated their house elves like vermin at the best of times.

 

“Master Roddy never orders…he is kind to Dilly and Rosy, like his mother was.” The Elf patted her hand. “No tears Missy, Dilly will take care of you now.” The little thing smiled and then disappeared, leaving a very confused Hermione Granger behind her.

 

o.o.o.o.o.o.o

 

Hermione came down for dinner, feeling just as confused as she had earlier that morning. She’d gone over the contract more carefully, and had only a few small amendments. There was something she wanted to add to it, but wasn’t entirely sure that he’d be willing to do it, or what he’d want in return if he was. Rodolphus stood as she entered the room and inclined his head to her. She gave him a small nod in return. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

 

“No, I was just reading in the study.” He poured her a glass of wine before returning to his seat. “I trust you had a pleasant afternoon?”

 

“I spent some time going over the contract, and made a few minor notes to discuss.” She said. “It’s nothing that you should object to, at least I don’t think you will.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it.

 

“What else?” He could see something was playing on her mind.

 

“Will my parents be targets as things get worse?” She asked softly.

 

Rodolphus took a moment before answering, his eyes taking in the tension in her shoulders and how it radiated up the slender column of her neck. Gryffindors had never been very good at concealing their emotions, but this girl was trying. “During the last war, families of muggleborn wizards and witches were favourite targets of the lesser of the Dark Lord’s followers. I cannot imagine that this time would prove any different.” He decided to give her honesty. 

 

“Could…would you hide them for me?” She asked, hating how it almost felt like begging.

 

Rodolphus’ instinct was to scoff at her request, what did he honestly care for the lives of two worthless muggles? ‘They are not worthless to her. Use them,’ his mind prompted him. “Are you asking me for a favour, Miss Granger?”

 

“Yes. I’m asking you to protect my parents.” She said as dinner appeared on the table in front of them.

 

“Very well,” he said and turned his attention to the meal of roast beef, accompanied by roasted vegetables, an impressive Yorkshire pudding and gravy. “What alterations did you wish to make to the contract?” he asked.

 

Hermione started going over the small details that she wanted changed, and was relieved as he nodded in agreement. The meal really was delicious, and nerves had her drinking more of the wine than she probably should have. It left her feeling muzzy, everything blurred around the edges. She barely noticed him topping her glass off here and there. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” She shook her head trying to clear it.

 

“I said, we should make that trip to your home so that you can collect your things, and familiar tonight.” Rodolphus chuckled a little. The girl was on her way to being quite inebriated, the flush in her cheeks was decidedly attractive.

 

“Of course,” she said and stood. “You should tell Dilly that dinner was wonderful…” She mused aloud.

 

“I always do.” He chuckled and moved over, pulling her in close and wrapping an arm around her. It was more contact than was required, but she was quite drunk and he had no desire to have to deal with her being splinched.

 

They apparated and Hermione’s head swam rather dramatically as they popped into her home. She swayed and felt Rodolphus catch her before she fell onto her ass in her parent’s living room. She flushed in embarrassment before stepping back under her own power. “Is it safe to apparate with a cat?”

 

“Very safe.” He promised. “I’ll wait here while you pack your things, just call me if you require assistance.” He laughed a little to himself as she left the room, not walking quite straight. Clearly she had no head for wine, a fact he filed away for later use. He sat down on the sofa, only to be confronted by the largest, ugliest orange tom cat he’d ever seen in his life.

 

“Mrrrrow.” The cat declared and sat on his lap, staring at him with impossibly intelligent yellow eyes.

 

“You must be Miss Granger’s familiar,” he said respectfully. A witch’s familiar could be a formidable thing, and this one didn’t feel quite like your average cat. There was something ‘other’ about him, and in felines that often meant Kneazle blood, which meant he could be dangerous if he felt Rod was a threat to his mistress.

 

The tom merely sat and stared up at him, as if sussing him out. After a very long moment, the cat seemed to come to his decision and moved, curling up on the sofa beside him as if to keep an eye on the wizard.

 

“There you are Crookshanks.” Hermione said, looking relieved when she finally came back down. “Could I trouble you to shrink down my trunk for me?” She asked Rodolphus.

 

“Of course.” He stood and followed her back upstairs. Her bedroom was as orderly as he would have anticipated, the walls taken over by childhood academic awards, and bookshelves full to the brim with fiction and non-fiction alike. He went and shrunk down her trunk, when a photograph caught his eye. Sitting on her desk was a still photo of the girl in beautiful blue dress, on the arm of an older boy in a Durmstrang uniform. “When was this taken?”

 

“At the Yule Ball in my fourth year,” she said. “I was the Durmstrang champion’s date that night.”

 

“Viktor Krum wasn’t it?” he asked and at her nod he placed the photograph back down. “You looked lovely.”

 

“Thank you.” She said a bit awkwardly and picked up the shrunken trunk and slipped it into her pocket.

 

“Let’s collect your cat, and get back to the house.” He didn’t like lingering here. It struck him as strange that there were no monitoring wards on the property, especially given the girl’s status as a target after the Department of Mysteries fiasco. Even the Dark Lord acknowledged her as one of Potter’s greatest assets, why on earth hadn’t Dumbledore and the Order recognized her worth as well?

 

Hermione nodded and went back downstairs, and smiled as Crooks jumped up into her arms. She cuddled him close, not sure she could have faced all of this without him. She looked up, feeling Rodolphus’ presence at her back as he descended the stairs behind her. A frown tugged at her lips as she watched him draw his wand. “What are you doing?”

 

“Just checking something.” He muttered and cast a spell to reveal any wards or monitoring spells on the property, the dark look on his face deepened as nothing was shown. A strange feeling flowed through him, something akin to pity for the girl who’d been marked for Death but left to fend for herself. With nothing else to do he went and wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping the cat pressed between them and apparated them back to his townhome.

 

“What were you casting? I didn’t recognize the spell.” Curiosity had cleared the fog in her mind, at least temporarily. Crookshanks wiggled free and took off to explore his new domain, not entirely pleased by the sensation of transport by apparating.

 

Rodolphus sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I was trying to see if the Order had placed any wards, or monitoring spells on your home.” He said, deciding she deserved the truth. “There was nothing there.”

 

Hermione nodded, realizing why he looked almost…sad for her. “I’m sure they had other things….”

 

“Do you value yourself so little?” Rod cut off her protestations. “They knew I had called claim on you, the Dark Lord told everyone that you were mine to do with as I pleased. I have no doubt that Severus ran to them with that information. You were the only one seriously injured at the Ministry battle. They had nothing else so urgent that they could not have spent an afternoon laying wards, or at least moving your family to a safehouse. The Order has them, just as surely as we do. They left you exposed Miss Granger, an under-aged witch recovering from a curse that should have killed you…and they took no effort to protect you.”

 

Hermione felt tears stinging her eyes and she just turned to go up to her room, not wanting to face the fact that for whatever reason she’d been left vulnerable. A shot of pain went up her arm as Rodolphus grabbed her and spun her back around. “Let go of me!” She struggled.

 

“No…you are going to listen to me.” Rodolphus all but slammed her into the wall of foyer. “They are not your friends Miss Granger, and you’re a stupid little fool if you think they care about you. If I had wanted your death, they’d be crying sad tears over your broken body right now. They’d mourn for a while, toss around recriminations about what more they should have done…but you’d still be rotting in the ground. All that promise, all that talent, gone because you meant so little to them, and because you’d placed your blind faith in them. The Order has a sad history of protecting its assets, even when they know threats are coming. Some people are just expendable in their eyes, and clearly you are. You are mine now, and I will protect you because of that, but you need to understand that you can’t trust Dumbledore and his devoted lackeys. They will use you, and cast you aside if you allow it.” Only then did he release his grip on her arm.

 

Hermione rubbed her arm where he’d held her, and shook her head. “You’re wrong.” She whispered, but it lacked conviction. “You’re wrong.” She brushed past him and hurried up the stairs and went to her room, finding Crooks already sitting by her door. After locking the door behind her, she pulled her familiar into her arms and curled into her chair and cried, hating that he’d made so much sense…and that she felt the stirrings of doubt in her gut.

 

o.o.o.o.o.o.o

 

Rodolphus was still in a foul mood when he felt his mark begin to burn. A flick of his wand and his face was obscured with his Death Eater mask and his robes transfigured to non-descript black ones. The tug of the summons took him to the shadowed depths of a park, and he approached his master and went down to a knee before him.

 

“Tonight we shall have our revenge on the mudblood bitch and her family…” Voldemort said silkily and then the others began to appear.

 

A mild sense of panic gripped his chest, eternally thankful that he had the girl safely hidden where only he and Rabastan could reach her. He rose and inclined his head. “So long as she is mine to do with as I please. I have plans for her, my Lord,” he said.

 

“I imagine you do Rodolphus.” The Dark Lord purred and once they were all assembled, they moved out of the park and down the darkened road towards the Granger’s home.

 

Rodolphus felt himself sink back into himself as they moved through the gate and the Dark Lord blasted the door open with the casual flick of his wand. He and the others moved through the House, searching relentlessly for any sign of the muggles, or the mudblood. He stood in the middle of the girl’s bedroom and cast his eyes around, having a feeling the house would be gone by morning. He flicked his wand over her desk, shrinking down some photographs and slipping them into an inner pocket of his robes. He could risk saving nothing else sadly. Downstairs the Dark Lord was seething.

 

“The girl’s trunk is missing, my Lord. It looks as though she and her family have fled. Perhaps the Order has put them into hiding,” Rodolphus mused aloud.

 

“Severus.” His voice hissed through the room and the tall, lithe form of the Potions Master came forward, falling to one knee.

 

“I heard nothing of this my Lord, the girl was returned home a week ago and I have seen no evidence of her at the Order’s Headquarters, nor did the Headmaster seem concerned about retribution levelled at her. The Weasleys were placed under protections, as was Potter, but no such actions were discussed for the Mudblood.” He reported, head bowed in supplication.

 

“Clearly you are misinformed, Severus. CRUCIO!” He snarled and held Snape under the curse for long moments, stopping only when screams were finally drawn from the man’s lips. “You will discover where they have moved the girl.” He ordered. “Burn it all, and set the Dark Mark in the sky….let them know we’re coming for her.”

 

Rodolphus nodded and left the House, watching as Fiendfyre consumed the structure, and his brethren had moved into the neighbouring homes for a bit of torture and mayhem. He lifted his wand to the sky and cast, “Mosmorde!” The sickly green light played off the gold in his eyes, lighting them up for a brief moment.

 

“We will find her Rodolphus, and then you will have your vengeance.” The Dark Lord swore quietly, before he disapparated with a crack. He watched as the flames leapt higher and he started to walk away, only to be stopped by Snape. “Do you not have orders to attend to, Snape?”

 

“Do you have the girl?” he asked quietly.

 

“Why? Has the Order misplaced her? Perhaps you should have taken better care of her, while you had the chance,” Rodolphus said cruelly and disapparated before Snape could respond. The bloody fools in the Order deserved at least a few days of panic and fear for their precious mudblood before they found out she was safe. Eventually he would need to deal with Snape, and somehow inform the Dark Lord of his plans. It was a twisted enough plot that the man would likely approve, but he needed the bonding bracelet on her before he did anything of the sort. Once the contract was signed, they would both be magically bound and unable to harm the other. It would prevent the Dark Lord from ordering him to torture and kill her for the amusement of all.

 

His father’s study had long been a refuge of his whenever he needed to think something through. Initially he had hoped that the Dark Lord would merely leave the girl to him, and focus on other more important matters. Sadly he had taken far too personal an interest in Rodolphus’ revenge. That meant that the betrothal could not remain a secret. It would make things more difficult for her, and would likely mean there would be some difficult demands from the Dark Lord. He poured himself a tumbler of fire-whiskey and tossed it back, a moment of avoidance before he had to wake the girl and tell her what had happened. One more drink, and he gathered his nerve and went to the girl’s rooms and knocked firmly at the door.

 

There was no answer, and he silently unlocked it and entered the darkened suite of rooms. He peeked into the bedroom and saw her curled into a ball, still wearing her clothes and hugging a pillow to her chest. Her giant orange beast was sitting sentinel on the end of the bed, watching him warily as if warning him away. Deciding that informing her of the destruction of her home could wait, he backed away and left her to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

o.o.O.o.o

 

Severus entered the Headmaster’s office, the aftereffects of the cruciatus curse were still trembling through his body, but this could not wait. Albus had promised him that protections had been put into place for the girl, that the house was being watched. It was all well and good that the Dark Lord believed they had Miss Granger, but he knew that they did not. The girl and her entire family were in the wind, and it did not bode well. A niggling fear had worked its way into his mind that Rodolphus knew exactly where the young witch was, and he doubted there could be anything good happening to her.

 

“Severus, what news?”

 

“You promised she would be protected,” he all but hissed at the old wizard. “The Dark Lord and all of the Inner Circle were called to a muggle neighbourhood tonight, _her_ neighbourhood. Miss Granger’s entire block is being consumed by Fiendfyre. I imagine the Aurors have been summoned by now.” Severus purposefully didn’t say anything about the witch’s fate, needing to draw Albus’ motivations out. He had to know.

 

A wave of sadness passed over the old wizard’s face, the twinkle disappearing from his eyes. “Harry will need to be told…Miss Granger will be a great loss to the cause, but perhaps something he can rally around and begin to take things more seriously than he has been.” Regret seemed to lace his tone.

 

Severus felt sick as he realized that Albus had meant to sacrifice the girl, and for no better reason than to inspire Potter to take up the fight with more care. The girl was brilliant, driven, and far more talented than any student he’d ever had the pleasure to teach in his years here…and the Headmaster had reduced her worth to what effect her death would have on the blasted Potter boy. “I wouldn’t mourn her yet. Miss Granger and her family were gone. There was no sign of them at the house, and the girl’s belongings were all absent. The Dark Lord believes we have hidden them,” he said, dark eyes accusing the old man.

 

“Gone?” The old man actually looked worried now.

 

“She nearly died, it’s possible they are in the wind,” Severus said, hoping against hope that the girl had simply taken her family and run. It would have been the sensible option for her.   

 

“I cannot believe Miss Granger would so easily abandon her friends.” Albus stood and walked to the window.

 

“Easily? She knew she’d been marked for death, and that clearly no one had taken any steps to protect her,” he said. “In case you’ve forgotten, she is the brains of Potter’s little band of heroes, and it doesn’t take a brilliant mind to recognize a no-win situation. If she has fled, she has every right to.”

 

“She must be found Severus, and brought back to where we can protect her.” Albus said sagely, brushing aside Severus’ concerns.

 

“I will investigate, and keep you informed,” Severus said quietly, thinking that the girl would be an abject fool to trust Albus’ protection twice. “You’ll need to tell Potter, the news will be all over the Daily Prophet come morning.”

 

“I’ll head over and speak to Sirius and the Weasleys.” Albus stood and walked to his fireplace. “You should get some rest Severus.”

 

Severus sighed and just left, body in too much pain to continue arguing. There was little he could do tonight, and searching for Miss Granger would require his mind functioning with the benefits of sleep.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Sirius’ dark eyes were intent on the Headmaster as he told them about the night’s Death Eater raid and its ultimate failure. Because Hermione had confided in him, he knew where she likely was and that she was hopefully safe. For whatever reason Rodolphus had concealed his intentions regarding her from the Dark Lord, so that everyone was unaware of her location. However because of his oath, he was unable to tell anyone in the room about it, and a part of him suspected that it was likely for the best.

 

“So all we really know is that Voldemort is actively searching for Hermione, and she’s managed to hide from him so far,” Sirius finally said.

 

“Yes, Severus is exhausting all avenues to try and locate Miss Granger so that she can be brought here for safety,” Albus said.

 

“The poor girl…” Molly said and sat down, looking stricken.

 

“That ‘poor girl’ should have been brought here in the first place,” Sirius said quietly. “She killed the Dark Lord’s lover, he was never going to let that stand. Snape and I both told you that.” He didn’t even try to hide the accusation in his tone, his patience for Albus’ games was wearing thin. It was perhaps the first time in history and he and Snape had been in actual agreement about anything. A signal that the apocalypse was at hand, surely.

 

“I had intended to go and lay wards on her home soon…” Albus said sadly. “You should tell the boys before they read the paper in the morning.” Tom had surprised him with this move, he had expected to have more time to sweep in and offer his assistance to Miss Granger. He had allowed his focus to waver, and now there would be questions. The girl was not yet able to perform magic outside of school, so she was hiding using muggle means, it could not be so terribly difficult to find her.

 

“Clearly not soon enough,” Sirius muttered and ran a hand through his hair. “We’ll tell them, and you will tell us the minute you find her. If anything happens to her Albus…it’s on your head.”

 

“We’ll find her my boy, don’t you worry.” Albus gave one of his twinkly-eyed smiles and swept out of the room.

 

Sirius stood and sighed. “I’ll go up and tell the boys,” he said, heading out of the kitchen while Arthur tried to soothe his wife. He went to the bedroom where Harry and Ron were sleeping and he entered, rousing Harry first, and then turning to Ron.

 

“Sirius? What’s wrong?” Harry asked, blinking blearily and sitting up, hand flailing for his glasses.

 

“Something happened tonight, and you deserve to hear about it from me,” he said seriously, letting the two teens wake up a bit before dropping the news.

 

Harry suddenly paled, a sudden terrifying thought hitting him like a runaway train. “Hermione…” he whispered, not reassured when his Godfather reached out and took his hand. No…she had to be ok. Merlin, she couldn’t be dead. Not Hermione.

 

“There was a Death Eater raid earlier tonight, and Hermione’s home was the target. Now, she wasn’t there…it seems like Hermione and her family have gone on the run. The Order is searching for them, and hopefully we can find them and bring them here for safety before they are discovered by the Death Eaters. I know how important she is to you both, but I promise we are doing everything we can to find her.” Sirius’ dark eyes met his Godson’s and he felt horrible seeing the raw pain on his face.

 

“We have to find her Sirius…” he whispered.

 

Ron came over and sat beside Harry. “They’ll find her Harry…’Mione’s smart, she’ll be ok,” he said, trying to reassure Harry. He gripped his best mate’s shoulder, putting on a brave face for his sake.  

 

“I promise you’ll be the first ones to hear once she’s found,” Sirius promised, moving closer and pulling Harry into a hug, knowing he needed the comfort. He hoped that Hermione was safe, and that his suspicions about Rodolphus were correct.  

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione headed downstairs the next morning, her eyes feeling like someone had scrubbed them out with sandpaper. She’d woken up a while ago, and dragged herself into the shower before getting changed and coming down to eat something. She paused at the entrance of the dining room and blinked a bit at the utterly closed expression on Rodolphus’ face.

 

“What’s happened?” she asked, a strange feeling twisting from her gut.

 

“Please sit, it’s not good news,” he said gently, his expression thawing a little at the clear worry on her face. “I was summoned last night, to your neighbourhood. The Dark Lord had meant to take you and murder your family in retribution last night. It’s a very good thing we collected your familiar when we did.”

 

Hermione sank into the chair beside his and felt her vision swim for a moment.

 

“I was able to save a handful of photographs, but the rest of the house was consumed by fiendfyre, the whole neighbourhood in fact was razed. The Dark Lord believes the Order has hidden you and your family, and I have allowed him to believe this fiction…for the moment at least,” he informed her.

 

Hermione felt actually ill, and had to close her eyes for a moment. “All those people…” She felt tears stinging her eyes.

 

“We will need to make more secure arrangements for your family, and we will need to tend to it today,” Rodolphus said, not letting her dwell on the dozens of dead muggles long enough to start blaming herself. “It is regrettable, but necessary.”

 

Hermione nodded. “What did you want in return for this…favour?” she made herself ask, knowing that he really could ask just about anything and she’d do it.

 

He just gave her a small smile. “We will discuss it after they have been moved to safety. It’s nothing distasteful, I assure you.” He poured himself a little more coffee. “My family has properties in several countries in Europe, but I believe the small villa in Tuscany will be the most practical for our purposes. It’s near a purely muggle village, and has very strong wards. There are a couple of house elves there that can tend to their needs and get them to safety if anything were to happen. It’s also connected to the Chateau by continental floo so you’d be able to visit them over the holidays without anyone tracing your movements.”

 

“What do I even tell them?” she sighed, looking down at her plate listlessly.

 

“A version of the truth, let me do the majority of the talking and it will be fine,” he said, feeling a strange stirring of sympathy again for the young woman he was about to tie his life to. Her whole world was being torn apart and someone she hardly knew was the only one acting to help her.

 

Hermione lifted her eyes and met his for a moment. “Thank you.” The sincerity in those two words rang through the silence in the room. He merely acknowledged it with a subtle incline of his head. She made herself eat some of the breakfast laid out for her, though it sat heavy in her stomach. Hermione liked plans, and craved a certain sense of order in her life. Everything was spinning wildly out of control and she didn’t know what to do.

 

“Are you finished?” he asked, after having watched her shift the same forkful of scrambled eggs around her plate for the tenth time.

 

She nodded and laid her fork down and stood.

 

“Come. I apologize in advance, but we’ll need to make a couple of jumps to get to your parents.” Rodolphus said. He was wearing a pair of nicely tailored beige dress pants and a white dress shirt. He was the picture of casual togetherness, a direct contrast to her jeans and t-shirt.

 

Hermione took a deep breath and moved closer, letting him hold her securely against his chest. It was a bit of a rough ride but they landed in a walled garden, with what almost looked like a castle in the background. She didn’t have time to really process it as he was taking hold of her again, and they were caught back in the intense squeeze of apparating. Two more jumps found them behind a house, hidden from view by a trellis covered in rambling roses. She was finally released from the Death Eater’s arms and she put a hand on the wall, trying to still the spinning in her head. “Please tell me that apparating yourself is better than this?”

 

“Much. Side-along is always a rougher ride,” Rodolphus said apologetically, giving the witch a moment to collect herself. He was aware that this would be a most difficult conversation both for Miss Granger, and her parents. He had a small vial of calming draught and would add it to the muggle’s beverages before they got into more alarming details. It would make things easier for the girl, and ultimately him. She looked rather pale still, but he supposed that was less due to cross-continental apparating and more likely attributed to emotional upset.

 

“I suppose we should get on with it,” Hermione said, straightening and squaring her shoulders.

 

He nodded, following her around to the front of the house, where she knocked. The door was opened by a tall, slender woman with the same warm brown eyes as her daughter. Her face lit up and she pulled Hermione into a tight embrace. He was unable to keep a small smile off his face, not having seen such open affection in a long time.

 

“George, darling, Hermione’s here!” She called over her shoulder. “What are you doing here, sweetheart? We got a letter that you’d be staying at the school for some extra credit work.”

 

“I finished…ummm, can we go inside? There’s a few things we need to talk about,” she said, unable to help but look a little nervous.

 

Jean Granger nodded and only then looked past her daughter to the man standing a few paces behind. “Sweetheart, who’s this?” she asked her daughter.

 

“Rodolphus Lestrange, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet Miss Granger’s family, I’ve heard so very much about you,” he said with a respectful nod. “I was asked to come and explain certain things, since the situation is rather complicated.”

 

“Then we’d best all sit down and discuss it,” Jean said and ushered them inside. “It must be quite urgent if you’re coming to speak to us while we’re on holiday.”

 

“I assure you it is.” Rodolphus said.

 

They followed Hermione’s mother to an airy sitting room, where an older man was reading a newspaper. He set it aside and stood. He was not an overly tall man, standing of a height with his wife, with a bit of grey streaking through hair that would once have been quite dark. “Hello pumpkin,” he said to his daughter, giving her a gentle hug and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. His grey eyes watched Rodolphus speculatively, unsure why his daughter had required an escort to them.

 

“George, this is Rodolphus Lestrange. Mr. Lestrange, this is my husband Doctor George Granger,” she said, making the introductions. “Why don’t you all have a seat while I get the tea ready?”

 

“That’s very kind of you, ma’am,” Rod said and sank into a comfy armchair, letting Hermione sit in the loveseat. He imagined the young witch would require the comfort of her mother during this discussion, as he had no intention about disguising his connection with their daughter. Such a concealment was rather beneath him.

 

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Lestrange, are you one of Hermione’s professors?” George asked.

 

“No, I’ve never had the inclination to teach…though I have nothing but respect for those that do. Like my father, I’ve always preferred the pursuits of private research,” he said politely, not wanting to broach difficult topics until the man’s wife had returned. While this was likely a conversation best had with the husband, he knew in most modern muggle families the husband and wife functioned as more of a team than in their own world.

 

“What field of study do you focus on?” George asked, sensing the evasion of his answer and allowing it for the moment.

 

“Arithmancy, actually. My father fancied himself an alchemist, but numbers have always been my preferred area. It’s an underappreciated field of study I’m afraid,” he said, grateful when Jean came in carrying a tray with tea on it. It was child’s play to spike the teapot with the calming draft without anyone noticing him, simple sleight of hand.

 

“Now, I’m sure you didn’t come all this way simply to bring Hermione here, so why don’t you tell us what’s going on?” Jean said as they all fixed their tea to their own preferences.

 

“How much has your daughter told you about the current…political climate of our world?” He asked, seeing from the guilty expression on Hermione’s face that it wasn’t much at all. “Back in the late 70’s there was a period that is often referred to as the first wizarding war. Now it’s something of a misnomer, but the fact is that there was a great deal of social unrest, and something of a civil war was being fought between two very diametrically opposed factions. The side led by the Dark Lord was winning, and was very near to seizing control of the government when he was killed on Halloween night in 1981. That ended the war, handing victory to the other side, led by Albus Dumbledore…your daughter’s Headmaster. Last year, the Dark Lord was resurrected.” He paused and allowed that to sink in. “While there have been few confrontations up until now, open war is inevitable. Because of your daughter’s close association with Harry Potter, a figure many on Dumbledore’s side rally behind, she has been singled out as a threat. Last night there was an attack in London, and your home was the primary target.” Rodolphus saw the Granger’s pale dramatically.

 

“Luckily, you were not there and your daughter was still at the school finishing her extra credit project. Unfortunately, this attack is only the beginning and your whole family has been marked for death. I’ve come here to offer you a safe place to ride the conflict out, and my personal protection. It will mean walking away from your lives for a time, but everything you require will be provided for.”  

 

“Hermione, how could you not tell us?” Jean exclaimed, looking at her daughter with wide eyes.

 

“I didn’t want you to worry, and I didn’t know that they’d come after you.” Tears started filling her eyes as she tried to justify it.

 

“In all honesty, your daughter would have had no way of anticipating what happened,” Rodolphus said smoothly. “The darker realities of this coming war have been carefully concealed from the students at Hogwarts, an effort to spare them for as long as they can.”

 

George nodded. “Not that we aren’t grateful for your offer, but why are you the one offering it? Do you work for the government or some manner of security force?”

 

Rod had to strangle the urge to laugh at that thought. “I am the one offering this to you because of the…unique circumstances that have attached me to your daughter,” he said delicately.

 

“Attached how?” George’s eyes narrowed.

 

Rod had the grace to look somewhat embarrassed, a clever show of emotion. “I’m certain your daughter has told you of the many things that can be done with magic, but there are some spells that ought not to be attempted without a full understanding of the consequences. Your daughter was…experimenting with something she’d read, and has managed to effect a magical betrothal between us. Such magics are never to be done lightly, because they are impossible to break,” Rodolphus said, a blatant lie but far easier for her parents to accept than the truth. He felt a small spark of pride as Hermione managed to play her part, casting her eyes down as if ashamed of her actions. “While she most certainly did not intend this to happen, it is nevertheless done. As her fiancé, I have an obligation of care for her and her family…an obligation I have no difficulty upholding.”

 

“Betrothed!” Jean Granger looked scandalized. “You’re not even seventeen yet, Hermione what on earth were you thinking?”

 

“It just seemed like a silly little spell…” Hermione said softly.

 

“And there’s absolutely no way it can be broken?” George asked, clearly seeing that it could not, but needing to ask regardless.

 

“Only if both of us are willing to surrender our magic, and I assure you that I am not.” Rodolphus said. “While not something I would have sought, obviously, the magic determined us to be a match for one another and such spells rarely go astray,” he explained. Spells of that nature did certainly exist, and when performed with the right intent the bonds they forged were indeed completely unbreakable. The best lies were always based in fact.

 

Jean hardly knew what to say. “But she’s just a girl…”

 

“She’s very nearly of age in our world, and while there is a significant age difference…given the average lifespan of magical people…over time it will seem far less important that it does now,” Rod said. “Now my family has a small villa in Tuscany, I would like to take you both there immediately. Hermione and I will stay a few days and help you get settled, but then I will need to return her to London and her friends. They have a safe house there, and the Headmaster will see her safely back to school in September.”

 

Jean was about to say something when her husband leaned over and covered her hand with his own. “Thank you, we would be happy to accept your help. Hermione, why don’t you go and help your mother pack,” he said to his uncharacteristically quiet daughter.

 

Rod watched as the women left the room, talking quietly to one another and then he turned his attention to George Granger. The older man was studying him, as if taking his measure. It was not a look he’d ever expected a muggle to give him. He managed to resist the urge to squirm in his seat, used to such scrutiny from far more frightening men than George Granger, but it was a near thing.

 

“I recognize you, from one of the papers that Hermione didn’t quite manage to hide,” he said quietly. “You’re one of them.”

 

Rodolphus nodded slightly. “I am, one of the many mistakes I made in my youth,” he owned, not denying it. “I have no intention of harming your daughter, or allowing anyone else to either.”

 

“And what would happen to her if you were sent back to prison?” he asked.

 

“If I am killed, or incarcerated again…she will receive full, unfettered access to all of my fortune and holdings. I’ve made provisions to be certain that she’ll be taken care of,” Rodolphus said. “And just to clear the air, yes I was married before and am a widower. I have no children, and only a single brother who is also like me a Death Eater, and escaped inmate from the wizarding Prison.” He was up front with the man, understanding that this was his daughter and he had a right to be concerned. “Rabastan, my brother, is aware of the bond between your daughter and I, and has promised to respect it.” he said, knowing that his brother would do just that. Loyalty to family was something deeply ingrained in them both, even before their promises to their Master.

 

“I do not approve, but if it is truly unbreakable, I suppose we’ll simply need to get used to the idea.” George said and sighed. “If you hurt her, wizard or not…I’ll make you pay for it.”

 

Rodolphus nodded. “I would expect no less.”

 

“As long as we understand one another.” George said and sipped his tea, considering the matter closed for the moment.

 


	6. Protections

o.o.O.o.o

 

An hour later found the Grangers and Rodolphus standing in the foyer of an older Tuscan villa. Muted slate tile spanned the area, a stark contrast to the white stucco walls and tasteful art. Arched doorways led off the hallway and seemed to beacon her to explore, but Hermione managed to avoid the temptation. Her parents seemed a little unnerved by the appearance of two older house elves, who took their luggage and disappeared, and there was work to be done before they’d be safe here. She could explore later.  

 

“The guest room is up the staircase, first door on your right. I’ll need you to stay inside while your daughter and I attend to the protections on the house,” Rodolphus said, looking down at Hermione.

 

“But I’m underaged, I can’t cast anything.” Hermione frowned.

 

“We’re in Italy, Miss Granger.” His lips quirked. “The trace is only active inside Britain’s borders. Come outside, and I’ll explain the process of laying the Fidelius Charm.”

 

Hermione looked a little abashed, not having realized the implications of them being in a foreign country. She left her parents to explore the house, and went outside with Rodolphus. “Isn’t the Fidelius charm incredible difficult to cast?” she asked, trying to keep on task and not let herself be distracted by musing on the legal implications of unregulated international magical travel.  

 

“Yes, it requires a great amount of both power and concentration. It can, however, be cast in tandem,” he said as they walked down the stone pathway towards the slightly rusted, wrought iron gate. “Now when cast in tandem, there is no way to designate someone else as secret keeper, and the two casters become dual guardians of the secret. In our particular situation, that is ideal. Since we would need to be together to divulge the secret, and no amount of legillimency will be able to pry the secret from us, there is no way your parents will be discovered. That is the true beauty of the Fidelius Charm, the secret must be freely shared…or the keeper can take it with them to the grave,” he explained.

 

“If it’s so much more secure with two people, why are they most often cast singly?” She frowned. It was a glaring gap of logic.

 

“It’s a matter of control, and casting in tandem requires a merging and sharing of power. It’s…not something often done anymore.” He explained. “Sharing power can be quite…intimate. It also requires trust and the willingness to share what you are with someone. The feel of someone’s magic is deeply personal, and can reveal hidden depths about them.”

 

Hermione nodded. “Show me what I need to do.” It was to protect her parents, and doing it this way would protect their location from everyone. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for them, and it seemed that he knew that.

 

He spent the next hour teaching her the incantation for both the joining spell, and the Fidelius Charm. It was well beyond the scope of the Hogwarts curriculum and yet she grasped it quickly. He was quite impressed. Her recall was truly incredible, and made this much easier as they prepared to cast it.

 

“Are you ready?” he asked her.

 

“I think so.” Hermione nodded and took a deep breath to center herself. Intent was hugely important to this spell, both to join their magic temporarily and to cast the most potent protective charm on the planet. When he offered her his hand, she reached out and took it without hesitation. They were standing facing one another, left hands clasped together. Moving as one, they lifted their wands, intoning the incantation to join their power. She felt an intense tingle flow through her as she visualized reaching out with her magic and pushing it through her hand to meet his. At the same time, she felt something *other* sweep through her body. It was darker, richer than her own magic, and it clung to every part of her, coating her in its influence. She gasped, forcing herself to finish the spell and not pull back from him.

 

Suddenly the bond forged together and the discomfort was gone in a wash of power. Hermione could feel it swell between then, potential searching for an outlet. She took a steadying breath and then at his nod they began to cast the protection. They needed to repeat it, over and over, until a golden glow surrounded the property in its entirety.

 

“ _Ego sum pastor occultatum, quod suus_ ,” their voices were in perfect sync as they spoke. It was a simple incantation that meant simply ‘I am the Keeper of what is hidden’. It was old magic, and the wand movements were quite straight forward. As she spoke, she focused on the need to hide the house and protect the people inside. They continued to chant, the power flowing between them and out. She could almost see it, and slowly a golden haze descended around them, covering the villa in its protective warmth. As the power found the ground, settling into the very earth, they both stopped and Hermione’s legs collapsed out from under her.

 

Rodolphus caught her. “Easy there…” He supported her with ease, letting her regain her equilibrium. Her eyes were bright with magic, strands of liquid gold weaving through her irises. Those that played with old magic were always marked by its touch. Human eyes rarely came in tones reminiscent of precious metals or gemstones, but those that invoked the older magics would often find their eyes changing to reflect it. It was not necessarily something dark, but old and powerful. “Just take a moment, and focus on your breathing. Come back into your skin.” His lips brushed against her ear as he held her against his chest.

 

“I can feel everything…it’s too much,” she gasped.

 

“Focus on something small, the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe in and out, and the beating of your heart…let everything else fall away.” He kept talking softly as she came back into her skin, and finally pulled away from him. “Are you all right?” His own hazel eyes were full of honest concern.

 

She nodded. “Just…drained, like I’ve run for hours.” Hermione touched her temple.

 

“Ok, let’s get you inside and laying down. You’ll need to rest and eat well for the next few days to replenish your magic levels.” He kept a careful eye on her as they walked back into the house, just in case she started looking unsteady again. She wavered a little as they reached the stairs and he simply scooped her up, ignoring her sound of shocked surprise. He carried her upstairs and turned left when he reached the top. He wandlessly opened the first door, and carried her inside. These were traditionally the rooms of the lady of the House. He laid her down on the bed gently, taking care not to jar her unnecessarily.

 

Hermione was blushing in embarrassment from being carried like a child. “I could have managed…” she protested.

 

“Perhaps. You could also have collapsed half-way up, fallen and cracked your skull. I’d much rather that did not happen. Rest for a while, I will check on you once I finish giving instructions to the House elves.” Rodolphus inclined his head formally and left the bedroom.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

It was near dinner time when Hermione finally re-emerged from her bedroom. Her mother had gone and sat with her over the afternoon, and she was feeling much better. A little bit of searching found Rodolphus in a reading room, sitting in a comfortable chair. As she opened the door, he lifted his head and inclined it slightly.

 

“How do you feel?” He asked.

 

“Tired, but not unsteady on my feet now,” she said. “Hiding from my parents?” Hermione summoned a bit of nerve and teased him.

 

“I felt it was the polite thing to do, after telling them I was planning on marrying and defiling their sixteen year old daughter.” He grinned wickedly for a moment. “Your father knows who I am, and while distinctly unhappy with the situation…he seems to understand that there is no getting around it,” he did say seriously.

 

“What did you want in return for protecting them?” she asked quietly, aware that they had not exactly discussed it in the flurry of activity that day.

 

He sat his book aside and gestured for her take the chair across from him. “I’ve told you before that my marriage to Bellatrix was far from ideal. I would ask that from now until we return you to your friends, that you allow me to spend time with you. Naturally, you have the right to refuse anything I suggest, but I’d ask that you not dismiss my requests out of hand.” He had thought about this a fair bit, and what he truly wanted from his marriage, however short it might end up being. Rabastan’s observations about his fears in the coming war were remarkably accurate. He did not believe the Dark Lord could win, not with how he was approaching things currently. If he only had this witch for a few short months, he wanted something genuine…something real. Something to sustain him in the dark cell he’d likely find himself in when all was said and done. 

 

Hermione frowned. “Spending time how?” She asked, clearly confused. They were spending time together right now.

 

A small smile turned up the corner of his mouth, and held out a hand. “Come here.” He said.

 

Hermione frowned but stood and went over, placing her hand in his. He gently tugged her down to sit on his lap. She tensed, but didn’t pull away as he arranged them so they would both be comfortable.

 

“Allowing someone inside your personal space takes trust,” Rodolphus said. “Just sit here and relax until dinner.” He asked her.

 

Hermione just nodded, looking quite uncomfortable…but reminding herself that it was a reasonable request. He picked up his book again and she found herself, unbidden, reading a bit of the history text he was enjoying.

 

Rodolphus mentally smirked as he felt the tension leech out of her body, letting herself sink back against his chest. Her hair smelled faintly of vanilla, and he resisted the urge to bury his face in those chestnut curls. His body thankfully behaved itself until the House Elf popped into the room and announced that dinner was prepared. He shifted his arm to let her stand, and then closed his book. He could see that she was still somewhat discomforted, so he didn’t try to engage her in conversation just yet. He went and opened the door, holding it for her and gesturing for her to walk ahead of him.

 

“Try and eat well tonight, you expended a great deal of magical energy today and you need the calories to rebuild your reserves.” Rodolphus said as they approached the dining room. “You should probably turn in early as well, but that is naturally your choice.”

 

Hermione nodded, acknowledging that it was sound advice. In their first year, Professor Flitwick had lectured extensively about the dangers of magical depletion and how to take care of one’s magic. He repeated the lecture every single year in the hopes that it would sink in for them. She smiled as they entered the dining room, and she saw her parents there.

 

“We were just about to come and find you both.” Jean said. “Are you feeling better, sweetheart?”

 

“Yeah, it was just a pretty intense piece of magic. I just need to rest for a couple of days and I should be fine.” Hermione smiled at her mother, reassuring her.

 

“Well, perhaps you should have an early night?” Jean suggested.

 

“I was planning on it.” Hermione agreed.

 

Rodolphus just chuckled to himself as he sat down across from George, and poured himself some wine to go with dinner. He mostly just stayed quiet and listened to the conversation between Hermione and her parents. It was refreshing to see two muggles discussing, and understanding the basics of their daughter’s life in the wizarding world. She talked about her classes that year, but he noticed her complete side-stepping of the Department of Mysteries and her problems with Dolores Umbridge. It was fascinating as she glossed over anything unpleasant, painting a rosy picture without a single tell on her face to hint that she was lying. It seemed that the Gryffindor Princess was perfectly able to employ deceit when it suited her. Most interesting.

 

“What classes did you take in your Newt years, Rodolphus?” George asked, as the conversation shifted to course selections.

 

“I took Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Herbology, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes through my Newts.” Rodolphus said, re-entering the conversation without skipping a beat.

 

“Not Defence?” Hermione asked.

 

“No. I had pretty much decided to pursue a Mastery in Arithmancy at that point, and unless you’re planning to become an Auror or hoping to become an Unspeakable, DADA is a fairly pointless Newt.” His eyes fairly glittered with amusement at the shocked look on her face. “We also had a fairly active Dueling Club, so my practical skills in that area were well-honed.” Unsaid was that his primary interest was in the Dark Arts, rather than the defence against them.

 

“I’m planning on taking seven,” Hermione said.

 

“Ambitious, I remember how hard just taking six was,” he said. “Have you given thought to what you want to do after school?”

 

“I want to get into politics, change the way magical beings are treated by the government.” Hermione’s goals hadn’t altered much since she had founded S.P.E.W.

 

His eyebrows rose, his estimation of the young woman rising again. Ambitious little creature. “My family holds a seat in the Wizengamot. If that is your true wish…I can make provisions for you to hold the seat,” he said. “You wouldn’t need to wade through the lower levels of Ministry and could move directly to the legislative body.”

 

“Really?” Hermione looked stunned.

 

“We can discuss it once you’ve finished school, but I don’t foresee there being a problem. As I told you, I have no wish to get in the way of your goals,” Rodolphus said, seeing how her father was watching him. His father had once told him to take care when choosing his dalliances, because certain things tended to breed true. He had a sneaking suspicion that Hermione’s pragmatism and intelligence had come from her father.

 

“That’s good to hear,” George said, enjoying the excellent meal.

 

By the time dessert was served, Hermione was trying to stifle her yawns. “I’m sorry mum, dad…but I think I should say goodnight.” As delicious as the chocolate mousse looked, she really could barely keep her eyes open.

 

Rodolphus stood as she left the table, old manners kicking in. “Goodnight, Miss Granger,” he said.

 

“Goodnight, Mr. Lestrange,” she said in return and headed upstairs. The entirety of the day hit her as she reached her bedroom and she shut the door behind her, leaning against it and taking a deep breath. The most important thing was that her parents were safe, everything else in her mind was completely secondary. Hermione ran a hand through her hair, and took a deep breath. She could live with her parents thinking this whole situation was her fault, just as long as they were protected.

 

She crossed the room and went into the ensuite bathroom, and started the shower. She found a simple white nightgown laid across the foot of the bed, and took that in with her. Stepping under the pounding water, she let her mind drift back to that afternoon…casting with Rodolphus. She could still feel the thrum of his magic against hers, and it was a strange sensation like velvet rubbing on the inside of her skin. She’d never realized that magic felt different for everyone, and a part of her wondered what her magic had felt like to him.

 

For the first time she understood how people could be seduced by the Dark Arts, just the feel of his magic inside of her was alluring. It was dark, and sinful, and she wanted to feel *more*. A shudder ran through her realizing that she wasn’t immune to the temptation of power, that she was just as vulnerable to it as anyone else. Shaking those dangerous thoughts away, she scrubbed her hair and tried to think about anything else. Hermione was actually a little insulted that her parents seem to believe that she’d have performed a spell like Rodolphus had insinuated, without being fully aware of the consequences. She always thought things through, usually with colour-coded charts and copious cross-referenced notes. Not that she was denying that if she’d come across a spell that would reveal her true love, or soulmate that she wouldn’t have done it, but she’d have been careful about it.

 

She finished her shower and changed into the nightgown, finding a robe hanging behind the door. She nearly screamed when she entered her room and found Rodolphus sitting on the corner of her bed. “What are you doing in my room?”

 

“I came to see how you were feeling.” Rod stood, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

 

“I’m fine, thank you,” she said, standing awkwardly at the door to the bathroom.

 

“Would you like help with your hair?” he offered, eyeing the mass of wet curls.

 

“I suppose so,” Hermione said and went to sit at the vanity, watching him approach in the mirror. He picked up a hair brush and began to gently untangle the mass of wet, chestnut tresses. She had to admit he was careful, taking care not to tug as he worked through the snags.

 

“I used to help Rabastan with his hair. He drove my father crazy when he decided to grow it out,” Rodolphus told her. “It only lasted a few years before he gave in and cut it, but he needed help to wrestle it into submission most days.” He continued to tell her some humorous stories about his childhood, giving her a look at his life outside of the war and the Death Eaters. Gaining her trust and affections would be an uphill battle, but her youth and relative inexperience would work to his benefit. It was clear that most of the young men that surrounded her paid her no attention, and had no appreciation for her purely as a witch. 

 

Hermione chuckled, relaxing as he teased the knots out and finished far more efficiently than she’d have managed on her own. She closed her eyes as his hands dropped down onto her shoulders, massaging them lightly. “Mmmmmm.” The little sound of contentment slipped out past her lips as he sought out the tension in her muscles and eased it away. She found her head leaning forward, surprised by just how nice his hands felt.

 

“I should say goodnight.” He reluctantly pulled his hands away from her. “You need your rest.”

 

Hermione found a blush staining her cheeks. “I do…thank you for helping with my hair.” She said, turning to look at him.

 

“You are welcome. Sweet dreams.” Rod gave a half bow and withdrew from her bedroom, planning on a nice long shower of his own.


	7. In the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, much love to all my reviewers, readers, and followers. Fair Trade was nominated for the Hermione’s Haven Awards, and is a finalist in their Best Drama/Angst category. Merely being nominated is a huge honour, and thank you to whoever put it forward. Voting link is on my Author’s page on Facebook, if you would like to support it. There are some incredible stories up for awards in all categories and I’m utterly thrilled to be in such talented company.

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione wasn’t sure what woke her, but as she sat up in bed she could hear something strange. She slipped out of the cool sheets, padding towards the door that she’d seen Rodolphus use to leave her room earlier that night. The strange sounds were coming from there. As she drew closer to the door, she could tell that they were whimpers, almost like an animal in pain. She swallowed and bravely turned the handle, looking into the darkened room. The sounds were coming from the bed, and Hermione’s gut clenched uncomfortably as he cried out, able to see him in a sliver of moonlight. The sheets were tangled around him, and his skin was damp with sweat as he battled whatever demons were inside his head.

 

Hermione approached the bed cautiously, and swallowed before reaching out and touching his shoulder. “Rodolphus?” She said softly, and then let out a little shriek as he came awake and she was suddenly pinned under him. He struck like a viper, almost faster than her brain was able to process. He had his knee pressed into her inner thigh and her hands pressed into the bed. Suddenly, recognition flooded through his face, and he released her just as suddenly as he’d lashed out.

 

“Hermione, I’m sorry.” He gasped, running a hand through his hair as he moved back, giving her space. “Did I hurt you?”

 

Hermione sat up, and shook her head. “No, just startled me a little.” She said, her pulse still jumping under the skin of her throat. “Are you ok?”

 

Rod nodded. “Just nightmares, I’m sorry I woke you. I must have forgotten to set a silencing ward.” He got up off the bed and crossed over to the antique wash stand, splashing some water over his face.

 

Hermione couldn’t help but stare. He was wearing just a pair of black boxers, riding low on his hips. He had a band of runes tattooed around his thigh, and there were silvery scars crawling across his right side. Spell damage of some kind, she noted idly. He looked less intimidating here in the darkened room, his usual masks decimated by whatever horrors had been in his mind. There wasn’t a spare ounce of fat anywhere on his body, the lean frame accented with wiry muscle almost. “What were you dreaming about?”

 

“That’s a very personal question, Hermione.” He looked back at her, where she sat on his bed. “But a fair one.” He admitted and dried his face on a towel. “I was dreaming about Azkaban; it’s always about that place.”

 

“What was it like?” She found herself asking, indulging in a bit of morbid curiosity. Sirius never spoke about his time there, but anytime it was mentioned she could see the shadows float through his eyes. All she ever heard about the infamous wizarding prison was that it was in the North Sea and guarded by dementors.

 

“Hell on earth, little witch. When you’re taken there, they give you basic clothing, and a single blanket. They don’t tell you that you’ll never get another set of clothes, or a new blanket when that one wears through. The cold seeps into the stone, and you’re always freezing, but never enough to kill you. They feed you just enough to keep you alive, but not to still the gnawing ache in your stomach. At first the dementors are the worst part of it, but over time…as you forget any happiness you might have had, they move on to newer prey, and all that’s left is the never ending, bone-deep cold.” His eyes met hers, and in that moment she could see just how haunted he was by his time there.

 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered softly, unable to help but feel pity for the wizard standing before her.  

 

“Don’t be.” He shook his head. “I earned my sentence there, no matter how justified my actions might have been, I was guilty.” He sat back down.

 

“You tortured the Longbottoms into insanity. How could that have been justified?” She frowned, unable to help the disgust in her voice.

 

“What’s the first thing you have to remember when reading about history, particularly things done during war?” Rod asked her, leaning back against the post of the bed. He didn’t look angry, or offended, merely speculative.

 

“There’s always bias.” She said frowning.

 

“Yes, I went after Frank Longbottom, but what no one tells you is that he murdered my father,” Rod said quietly. “He and a few other Aurors raided our family home, looking for dark artifacts or some such nonsense. In reality they were looking for evidence to tie us to the Dark Lord. My father was never a Death Eater, Hermione. He was a researcher, and lived in his books. He went to school with the Dark Lord and I believe that my father had his ear. Up to that point things had been…subtle, in the background. Frank Longbottom claimed that my father attacked him, but I know that was a lie. My father’s house elf saw everything, and told me later. Longbottom killed him, in cold blood and because he was an Auror, and my father suspected of ties to the Dark Lord, they cleared him of any wrong doing.

 

“So yes, when Bella wanted to interrogate him and Alice about what had happened to the Dark Lord, I went along with it. Alice was an Auror as well, and had her own share of blood on her hands. I tortured Frank, got him to admit what he’d done to my father, but Rabastan and I also warded the house so that no harm would come to their son. Young Neville was there that night, and if Bellatrix and Barty had been allowed to have their way, they’d have burned the house down with all three Longbottoms inside it.” He didn’t break her gaze. “I may be many things, Hermione, but I would never harm a child. There are some lines I will never cross, nor allow anyone else to cross,” he whispered.

 

Hermione shivered a little under his intense look, and she felt her footing crumble a little more. “There’s more isn’t there?” she asked, seeing it in his eyes.

 

“Much more, and if you really want the truth I will tell you, but I warn you that some things cannot be unheard. Be very certain you’re ready for the truth before you ask me, and think if you really want to see the grime and filth on your heroes. None of us were clean, on either side,” Rodolphus cautioned her. “For now, however, I believe you should go back to your own room. It’s late and I’m admittedly not in the very best frame of mind.”

 

Hermione swallowed nervously and nodded. “Goodnight then.” She moved off his bed, straightening her night gown a bit self-consciously.

 

“Goodnight Hermione,” Rodolphus said and gave her a slight bow as she withdrew from his room.

 

Hermione closed the door behind her and could almost feel him layering wards over the door to keep anyone else out and prevent any more sounds from disturbing her rest. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to think about what he’d said and hating that it felt like truth. She didn’t want to believe that Neville’s father could have killed someone callously. Perhaps the house elf had been mistaken, or not wanted to speak ill of their dead master? Her gut clenched uncomfortably as she tried to justify it, and wasn’t able to. Why couldn’t things be simple?

 

Hermione returned to her bed, and it took her a very long time to fall asleep again and this time it was her dreams that were unsettled.

o.o.O.o.o

 

“I still wish you could stay here with us.” Jean whispered, hugging her daughter tightly.

 

“I know, mum…but I have to finish school, and it’s not something I could do by correspondence. I’ll be perfectly safe at Hogwarts,” Hermione promised, hating lying to her parents, but it was necessary. “I’ll see you over the Christmas Break, and Mr. Lestrange has promised to make sure my letters get to you.” She held on tightly. Rodolphus was waiting outside while she said her goodbyes to her parents. It had been considerate of him.

 

Her father moved forward and took a hug for himself. “You be careful, and school or not…if things go sideways, you get yourself here,” George Granger whispered. “I love you, Pumpkin,” he said.

 

“I love you too, Dad,” she whispered, feeling tears stinging her eyes. She really didn’t want to leave, but she had to. She needed to go back to London, finalize her contract with Rodolphus, and then go and face her friends and Order. It was telling that her contract with Rod was the very least of her worries right now. Most of the knot of anxiety twisting in her stomach had to do with the inevitable confrontation with the Order and how the hell she was going to explain where she’d been. It didn’t help that the late night conversation with Rodolphus had shaken her faith in them further.

 

“All right, off you go before we lock you in a room here.” George said and pulled back. “We’ll see you at Christmas, be good and be safe.” He said.

 

“I will, you too.” Hermione wiped a few errant tears away, and made herself walk outside into the sunlight.

 

“Everything all right?” Rodolphus asked.

 

“It’s just hard,” Hermione whispered. “I know they’re safe, but a part of me doesn’t want to leave them.”

 

He nodded. “I will check in on them as often as I can, and the Elves will guard them with their lives if need be. I promise you that they will be safe here.” He reassured the young witch, as best he could.

 

“I know, it doesn’t make this any easier though.” She closed her eyes for a moment and drew in a deep breath, trying to compose herself. “Ok, we should get going before I lose my nerve.”

 

He nodded and stepped in close, taking a firm hold of her and starting a series of apparating jumps that took them across France, and then back to London. As they came to a final stop in the foyer of the London townhouse, he released her but kept a close eye until he was certain she had her feet back under her.

 

“I really hate how that feels,” Hermione muttered, glad she had skipped breakfast that morning.

 

“I do apologize, it’s never pleasant doing that many jumps at once,” he said. “Dily, tea for two please.” He called and walked with her to the sitting room. He chuckled as he saw Crookshanks lounging like a king across the settee. “It looks as though your familiar is rather at home here.”

 

Hermione smiled and went over, picking him up and cuddling the massive orange tabby. He tolerated it and snuggled into her arms. She didn’t know what she’d have done if he’d been killed in the blaze that had destroyed her home. “Were you good for Dily?” she asked him.

 

“Merrow,” Crookshanks replied and then wiggled free, hopping down and sauntering off to go and make his rounds of the house.

 

“He’s quite the creature,” Rodolphus commented and took his usual chair, leaving Hermione the settee.

 

Hermione just smiled, and the tea appeared on the table between them. “Thank you Dily.” Hermione said, not seeing the Elf but not forgetting her manners. “I’m prepared to sign the contract as it sits now,” she said, adding a little honey to her tea.

 

Rodolphus nodded. “After we have our tea, we’ll go up to my study and sign the papers then. I have your bonding bracelet there. We can also discuss what you want to tell the Order, as I imagine the truth would be a bit more than you care to reveal.”

 

“All they need to know is that my parents are protected, and that I’ve agreed to be married in exchange for their safety. It’s no one’s business who I’m betrothed to, though Sirius knows that you approached me about the honour debt,” she did tell him. “He was the one who lent me books about it so I’d be prepared. He swore an oath to keep it secret, so I know that no one else is aware of the truth.”

 

“Sirius Black.” He raised his eyebrows. “Well…regardless of the rebellions in his youth, he would be a good advocate for you amongst the Order. He understands the rules, and I’m glad you’ll have someone around you that can be depended upon to defend you. Snape suspects I have you, be prepared for him to interrogate you as well. If he presses you, tell him to come and speak to me and I will give him an abridged version. I must also decide what to tell the Dark Lord.” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair.

 

“He wants me dead, doesn’t he?” she said quietly. Hermione didn’t know how Harry lived with this feeling all the time, like someone was holding a sword over your head. The mere thought that there was someone out there in the world that wanted to kill her was enough to chill her straight down to the bone.

 

“He does, but he swore that you were mine to do with as I pleased.” Rodolphus said quietly. “I will not let any harm come to you, I give you my word.”

 

Hermione nodded. “I believe you, I know I shouldn’t, but I do.” There was a sincerity in his eyes whenever he spoke about her safety, and that of her parents, and it reassured her that he truly would do everything he could.

 

Her words brought a small smile to his lips. “Thank you for that.” He did say.

 

Hermione fell into a companionable silence, finishing her tea and a few of the little sandwiches that Dily had made for them. Once they finished eating, Rod stood and offered his hand to her. She slipped her hand into his and walked with him upstairs, to his study. It wasn’t a large room, but it was clearly a man’s domain. The furniture was highly polished burl oak, and had a real sense of age. There were stacks of papers, neatly ordered on the surface, and black box sitting innocuously in the very center of the green leather blotter.

 

“If you would care to review the contract before signing?” he offered it to her.

 

Hermione nodded and sat down, looking through the pages and seeing where her amendments had been initialed by Rodolphus. Finding nothing out of order, she reached for a quill and dipped it into the inkwell and elegantly signed her name at the bottom: Hermione Jean Granger.

 

Rodolphus took the quill from her fingers and signed his own name on the line below. As he lifted his quill, both signatures flared gold and set against the paper. “We are now betrothed.” He said and put the quill down, and reached for the black box. He opened it and removed the bracelet lying against the black velvet.

 

Hermione’s throat grew very dry as he reached for her left hand, fastening the bracelet around her slender wrist. It was comprised of four strands of impossibly perfect black pearls, with a diamond encrusted serpent coiled around a sprig of myrtle. The symbolism was not lost on her. Myrtle was the tree sacred to Aphrodite, and it was meant to give blessing to the promised union.

 

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly as the clasp closed, and then disappeared.

 

“I’m glad it pleases you.” He stroked his thumb along the skin of her wrist before releasing her hand. Bellatrix had refused to wear it, rejecting it as a symbol of ownership over her. His father had commissioned this bracelet the day he’d met his mother, convinced that one day she would be his wife. He was glad that Hermione appreciated it. “It carries some protection against attack, and if anything should happen, I’ll be able to find you.” He explained.

 

Hermione stroked her fingers over the pearls. “I’ve read that most wedding bands carry similar enchantments.” She said.

 

“That is why it’s traditional that the bonding bracelet isn’t removed until the wedding ceremony. It ensures that the bride to be is protected as completely as possible,” he said.

 

“Then why do only the witches wear a piece of jewelry like this?” She asked. “Why not the groom-to-be?” She asked, both teasing and a little curious.

 

“Witches are more valuable. A witch carries the next generation, raises them, and is usually a much greater influence on her sons and daughters than her husband. That is why the old families guard them so carefully. There was also a time, many centuries ago, when talented witches were stolen, sometimes right from the altar, by rival families.” He explained, a bit of a smile on his lips.

 

“I suppose that makes sense then.” She blushed a little.

 

He stepped closer and lifted his hand, stroking her cheek. “If you are ever in trouble, stroke the serpent and I will know you need me.” He met her eyes, and leaned down stealing a chaste kiss.

 

Hermione’s stomach flipped a little at the slight brush of his lips and she stepped back, embarrassed by how easily he was able to unsettle her. “Stroke the serpent…right.” She swallowed, trying not to think about how dirty that sounded.

 

He chuckled. “Come, let me show you around the house a little more.” He said and walked out of the study, not pressing her. He showed her the small reading room, about twice the size of his study, the walls lined with bookcases.

 

Hermione smiled as she entered the room. “This is wonderful.”

 

“The main library at the Chateau is far larger, but I’ve spent many enjoyable afternoons in this room reading,” he said fondly. “Please feel free to make use of it whenever you please.”

 

“Thank you.” Hermione walked over to the nearest bookcase, eyes dancing over titles she’d never encountered before, feeling the urge to just start devouring the knowledge contained in them. Merlin, she loved the allure of new books.

 

“If things go poorly with the Order, you are of course welcome back here,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you to feel as if you need to remain somewhere you don’t feel welcome, or safe.”

 

Hermione turned, meeting his eyes. “You think they’ll turn me away?”

 

He nodded. “Or ask for more than you’re willing to share.” Rodolphus leaned against the doorframe. “Don’t let them back you into a corner, you have options.”

 

Hermione nodded. “I won’t.”

 

“Stay through the weekend. You can take advantage of the Library and gather your thoughts before going back to them. A little bit of worry will make them appreciate you a bit more I think.” A smile danced across his lips.

 

Hermione considered it, the appeal of staying here with him was greater than it should be. “I’ll stay at least until Friday, I don’t know if I can leave them wondering about me any longer than that. Harry will be beside himself.”

 

“Send a letter, tell them you are safe and will join them when you can.” He grinned, wanting to keep her with him a little longer.

 

Hermione considered again and found herself nodding in agreement. “Ok.” She gave in, knowing it was simple cowardice that made her concede to his wishes. She didn’t want to face everyone and admit what she’d done, struck a deal with a Death Eater.

 

“Would you like to see the rest of the house, or is this all you need?” He grinned, knowing that she’d likely spend most of the day here.

 

A light blush stained her cheeks, but she reluctantly moved away from the bookcase. “I’d like to see the rest of the house.”

 

He showed her the formal drawing room, and the smaller music room. The grand piano gleamed in the spill of light from the bank of windows. “Do you play?” he asked.

 

“A little, my parents had me in music lessons when I was younger. Before Hogwarts.” She headed over and ran her hand over the beautiful wood. The high gloss of the varnish made the unique grain of the wood pop, making it almost a piece of art. It was a Steinway, and that alone spoke to its quality. “It’s a beautiful instrument.”

 

“My mother played, this was a gift for her from my father. It’s made from bur walnut. Rabastan is a passable player, but I was never able to quite wrap my head around it,” He chuckled a little.

 

“May I?” she asked, fingers itching to try the incredible piano. She’d never played on anything so lavish.

 

“Of course,” Rod said and moved back so she could pull the bench out.

 

Hermione lifted the cover and sat down, running a few cords, pleased to see the piano was still in tune. She decided what to play, from what she remembered. “It’s probably a little cliché but,” she muttered and began to play the first movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.  She could remember it fairly well, and as she played the notes became smoother. The tone of the piano was incredible, and she felt herself falling into the music and everything else melted away.

 

Rod remained at the corner of the piano and watched her with another small smile on his lips. It had been a long time since there had been music played in this house, and a small part of himself hoped that it would be only the first song of many played in this room. When she finished, he applauded politely.

 

“Beautifully done.” He smiled. “There is sheet music in the cupboard over there, and again…please feel free to make use of this as often as you wish.”

 

Hermione smiled. “Thank you.” She met his eyes for a moment, seeing some strange emotion in them that she couldn’t quite put a name to. She looked away first and stood. “I should probably write that letter, so they don’t go completely crazy looking for me.”

 

Rod nodded. “When you’ve finished it, I’ll be in my study and I will send it for you.” He gave her a polite bow and left the music room.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Sirius fed the little barn owl a piece of ham and accepted the letter. Only Order members knew how to charm post to get to the recipients inside number 12 Grimmauld place, or people who had been gifted with the secret. He went to sit at the table, sipping his coffee as he broke the plain red-wax seal.

 

_Sirius,_

_I saw reports of the fire at my home on the news, and knew I needed to get word to everyone. I am safe, and I will be returning to you as soon as I finish ensuring the safety of my family. Please give Harry and Ron my love, and make sure they know that I was nowhere near London that night. Professor Snape warned me before I left Hogwarts that I would be a target, and it seems that my instincts were proven right. I’m sure everyone’s been worried sick, and out looking for me, so please reassure them that it’s not necessary. I’ll explain more once I’m back in England, and can see you all face to face. I can’t commit any details to paper in case the owl is intercepted._

_Hermione_

_P.S: Thank you for the books you lent me, they were invaluable._

 

Sirius let out a ragged sigh of relief, the post script reassuring him that this letter was indeed from Hermione and that where ever she was with Rodolphus, she was safe. He got up from the table and went to the kitchen door.

 

“Harry! Ron! Come to the kitchen!” He called, knowing they were in the library playing wizards chess. Harry was abysmal at it, but it was a way to try and keep his mind off Hermione’s whereabouts. The two boys trudged in, looking stressed and pale. He didn’t say a word and handed the letter to Harry. He watched his godson fairly devour it, and as he read some of the light seemed to return to his eyes.

 

“She’s really alright?” Harry asked, desperately needing the letter to be real.

 

“I did lend her several books, and no one else was aware of that. It’s definitely from Hermione.” Sirius smiled and was suddenly engulfed in the tight hug from Harry, as Ron took the letter and read it next.

 

“She’s not in England?” Ron frowned.

 

“Knowing our Hermione, I imagine she’s moved her parents out of the country, somewhere that Voldemort won’t go looking for them.” Sirius said. “I’m just relieved that she’s somewhere safe.”

 

“When do you think she’ll be back?” Harry asked, finally releasing Sirius.

 

“Soon, prongslet…soon.” Sirius said, certain of it. By now they would have had plenty of time to negotiate her contract, and the fact that her parents weren’t at home the night of fire meant that he was probably hiding them magically somewhere outside the country. The Lestranges had a lot of ties to Europe, and it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume he’d tucked them away somewhere. He wouldn’t be completely easy until he laid eyes on the young witch, but for the moment the letter was nearly as good. “I need to send word to Dumbledore and Snape, you two go and try and get back into your game mm?”

 

Harry nodded. “Ok, thanks for telling us first.” He met his godfather’s eyes.

 

“I promised I would, pup…and I’ll always keep my promises to you.” He ruffled the teen’s messy black hair. “Go on now.” Sirius sent them off and headed to the fireplace to make a floo call. By tonight, the Order would know that Hermione was safe, and they could wait for her to resurface on her own terms.

 

TBC


	8. Casual Intimacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small Brag, this Story won Runner-Up for Best Drama/Angst in the 2018 Hermione’s Haven awards. Congratulations to Black from the Veil by burntmarshmallow on their Win! Thank you so much to everyone who voted, and especially to the person who nominated this story. So humbled. I love you guys. Enjoy!

o.o.O.o.o

 

The next three days fell into a strangely comfortable pattern for Hermione. She’d have breakfast with Rodolphus, and make her way up to the Library to read until lunch. What Rodolphus did in the mornings she wasn’t entirely sure, but she never saw a sign of him until he’d walk into the dining room and join her for lunch. They’d share the copy of the Daily Prophet that he’d bring with him, and then he would join Hermione in the reading room after they ate.

 

She was currently reading an interesting volume on hereditary magic, and various gifts that seemed to pass along bloodlines. The most notable ones were of course parsletongue and metamorphmagi, but there were many other smaller, lesser known gifts that seemed to follow the older families. Hermione found it completely fascinating. Tonight, Rodolphus was reading a potion’s journal, absently sipping a glass of fire-whiskey. They’d only left the reading room to have dinner today, and then by silent agreement returned to their books.

 

To most people she imagined this would seem rather dull, but there was something calming about his presence. He was there, but he didn’t interrupt her reading or ask silly questions about her book. Rodolphus simply seemed content to be in her presence. It was a strange thing, but the whole bloody situation was strange and she was done questioning it. At least for now.

 

“Rodolphus?” she asked, finishing her chapter.

 

“Mmm?” He looked up from the journal and arched an eyebrow in question.

 

“Do the Lestranges have any special magical gifts?”

 

He nodded. “We do have a certain…talent, but it’s not as flashy as say a metamorphmagus.” He chuckled, a smile warming his features.

 

“Will you tell me what it is?” she pressed a little, wanting to know what this talent was.

 

He seemed to consider for a moment and then nodded. “Members of my family have always had great ease in learning the Animagus transformation, almost an innate feel for it. Both Rabastan and I are able to transform freely. Unfortunately, our forms were not of a size that would allow us easy escape from Azkaban.” He shared that bit of information with her. It was a known talent of his amongst the Death Eaters after all. Their cells had been in the middle of the building and hadn’t boasted even the smallest of windows.

 

She sat up looking very interested. “What animal do you transform into?”

 

“That is a secret.” His eyes fairly twinkled with mirth. “If you had to guess, what would you think I am?”

 

Hermione tilted her head to the side, as if trying to guess. Sirius was a dog, and she could understand that based on what she knew both of his name, his loyalty to his friends, and his somewhat…indiscriminate taste in women. She’d overheard enough at headquarters last year to get a general idea about that. Professor McGonagall was a cat, and an independent thinker and quite stern. What did she really know about Rodolphus? He was intelligent, dangerous, and capable of cool thinking under pressure. “I’m not sure, perhaps a Raven?”

 

He shook his head slightly. “A flattering guess, but no…not a raven. I will tell you one day, but perhaps after the Order is done interrogating you about your whereabouts. The Headmaster is a skilled Legilimens, and I’d honestly prefer that he doesn’t learn that particular secret of mine.”

 

Hermione nodded. “And unfortunately I don’t know Occlumency.” A small part of her wanted to be offended that he didn’t trust her, but she knew he was right. The Headmaster would be able to pluck whatever he wanted from her head, so it was sensible to limit her information.

 

“Once you’re back at Hogwarts, you could approach Snape about lessons. He’s one of the most gifted Occlumens I’ve ever known,” Rodolphus said, not often praising the dour potions master, but when it came to the mental arts, Snape had no equal.

 

“I highly doubt he’d want to waste his time on me, especially after the disaster last year with Harry.” She shook her head. Harry had confided in her why his lessons had been ended. She could well understand the Professor’s reasons for throwing Harry out, and was frankly shocked the man hadn’t hexed her best friend. It had been an unforgiveable breech of his privacy.

 

“Ask, he may surprise you,” he said, picking up his book again.

 

Hermione nodded. “I should rejoin the Order soon,” she said quietly.

 

“Stay one more day. I would like to introduce you to my brother. In the event that something happens to me, he has promised to look after you,” Rodolphus said. “I will have him join us for dinner tomorrow.”

 

“One more day,” she agreed.

 

“I’d also like you to take an owl with you, when you leave. You need to have your own way to keep in touch with me, independent from the Order.” Rodolphus said, a kernel of an idea taking root.

 

“But I’m only allowed one familiar at Hogwarts.” She frowned.

 

“Technically yes, but the wards on Hogwarts aren’t closed to owls. Before you leave for King’s Cross, let the owl loose and tell it to fly to the Hogwarts Owlery.” He smiled. “More than one of my friends did that over the years, and no one really polices it.”

 

“All right.” She said and stifled a yawn.

 

“Tired of my company already?” Rod teased her a little.

 

“Just tired in general, I think I’ll say goodnight.” Hermione closed her book and set it aside on the table. Her breath caught in her throat as Rodolphus caught her hand in his swift grip, bringing it to his lips. He held her eyes in a burning gaze and pressed a kiss to her skin.

 

“Sweet dreams.” He said before releasing her hand.

 

Hermione swallowed and nodded. “Goodnight.” She fled the room quickly, hating the heat she could feel beating off her cheeks.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Rabastan apparated into the front hall of his childhood home, smiling when he spotted his brother waiting for him. He’d been itching to meet the little mudblood witch his brother seemed so determined on adding to the family, and who he’d been so completely engaged with for nearly a week now.

 

“So, where is she?” He held his hands out in a questioning gesture. “Please tell me you haven’t got her chained to a bed or something.”

 

“Nice to see you too, brother.” Rodolphus snorted and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Listen a moment,” he said.

 

Rabastan frowned and fell quiet, his ears picking up the slightly muffled strains of music coming down the staircase. It was something he hadn’t heard since he was a boy. “Mother’s piano?” he asked quietly.

 

Rodolphus nodded, his expression softening a little as well. “She’s a rather lovely player, if a bit unpracticed.”

 

“Well, let’s go up and meet her then,” Rabastan said and together the brothers climbed the stairs up to the second level. He hesitated and peered through the slightly open door, observing the girl before they announced their presence. The witch was intent on the sheet music, nimble fingers dancing over the keys as she played Fur Elise. She looked to be rather petite, and pretty in an understated way. Her curls looked to have a life of their own, corkscrewing this way and that. They were a rich chestnut brown with soft golden highlights that caught the light from the swiftly sinking afternoon sun. As she finished the song, Rabastan pushed the door open further with his shoulder and applauded politely.

 

The girl’s head snapped around to look at them, and her wide brown eyes flicked directly to his brother for direction.

 

“Hermione, I’d like to introduce my younger brother, Rabastan Lestrange. Rabastan, this is Miss Hermione Granger, my betrothed,” Rodolphus said formally, giving his brother a hard look.

 

Rabastan walked over and took her hand, playfully bowing and kissing her knuckles. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Granger.” He winked at her.

 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Hermione said a little dubiously.

 

“You play beautifully. Could I press you for another song?” Rabastan turned on all his charm, aware his brother was likely two seconds away from hexing him.

 

“Thank you, I don’t mind at all. It’s such a beautiful instrument.” Hermione said, clearly unsure what to think of the wizard.

 

“Not so beautiful as the witch playing it.” He winked roguishly at her, and winced as Rod hit him with a stinging hex right on his behind. He looked over at his brother and raised his hands defensively. “You told me to be on my best behaviour, I don’t get much better than this.”

 

“Sit,” Rodolphus pointed to the chair by the window, the smile on his lips belying his sharp tone.

 

Rabastan was laughing as he took the seat his brother had pointed him towards. In truth it was good to laugh and tease a little, a break from the nightmares that plagued him and the thinly controlled violence at Death Eater meetings. No…this was more like the carefree afternoons of his youth, when he and Rod had taken turns trying to win bets with the society witches in their social circle.

 

Hermione laughed and got up, looking through the music for a moment before choosing something else to play. She nearly jumped as Rod came up behind her, standing close enough that his cheek brushed her hair.

 

“Play this.” He chose a piece from the stack. “Please.”

 

Hermione took the piece of sheet music and nodded. “Of course.” She couldn’t help the slight gasp that passed her lips as he kissed her cheek, lips just skimming over her skin. It was a clear display of possessiveness, she knew that, but it made her heart pound in her chest all the same. She swallowed nervously and headed back to the piano, setting up the sheets music for Claire De Lune. As she started playing, all the nervousness and discomfort melted away. It wasn’t a piece she’d ever played before, but she was familiar enough with it to try and capture the feel Debussy often put into his compositions.

 

She was aware of Rod walking across the room to look out the window, the rhythm of his steps something she’d come to recognize over the last week. As hesitant as she’d been at the prospect of being here alone with him, all of her concerns had proven to be baseless. He’d been a gentleman, taking care not to take too many liberties other than the odd kiss on the cheek, or her hand. It was almost like being in an old period romance novel.

 

‘Careful Hermione, you are not Elizabeth Bennet and he’s certainly not Mr. Darcy,’ she chided herself for such ridiculous thoughts. She finished the final cords and in spite of herself, she smiled as both men applauded again. As if knowing about her Regency influenced thoughts, Rodolphus approached and offered her a hand up from the bench.

 

“Dily should have dinner nearly ready,” Rod said as he escorted her out of the music room.

 

“Good, I’m starving,” Rabastan said, following them.

 

“Miss Granger will be returning to the tender care of the Order tomorrow,” Rodolphus said as they descended the stairs.

 

“She’d be better off here,” Rabastan said.

 

“ ** _She_** is right here,” Hermione said, looking over her shoulder and raising an eyebrow at him.

 

“Oh, you’re going to fit right in.” His grin turned a bit darker, less charming and more like the predator he could be.

 

Hermione didn’t have a ready retort for that, so she turned her head back to the front and let Rodolphus lead her to her seat. She said a polite thank you as he poured her a glass of wine, and attempted to hide her momentary unease with a slow sip of it. The resemblance between the brothers was undeniable, though Rabastan’s features were not as refined as Rodolphus’. There was also something in his eyes that promised wicked things, and it made her hesitant to meet them fully.

 

“So how did you end up playing follow the leader with the Potter boy, and Dumbledore’s merry band of mindless sheep?” Rabastan asked as he settled into his chair across from her.

 

“In my first year, Harry and Ron saved me from a Mountain Troll…hard not to bond over an experience like that. Things kind of just seemed to go from there.” She said smoothly, meeting his eyes and keeping her tone almost bored.

 

Rabastan nearly spit his drink all over the table. “A mountain troll? How on earth did that happen?”

 

“During our first year at Hogwarts, the Philosopher’s Stone was being hidden at the school. Our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrel was possessed by You-Know-Who and caused a lot of havoc. One such instance was him letting a Mountain Troll into the school on Halloween, as a distraction so he could attempt to steal the stone. I was trapped in the bathroom by it, and Harry noticed I was missing from the feast. He and Ron saved my life by levitating the Troll’s club and bashing it over the head.” She laughed. “We became quite good friends after that.”

 

“I’d imagine so.” Rabastan had to work hard not to gape.

 

“Strange, the wards on the school are normally set to repel dark creatures such as trolls, acromantulas and werewolves,” Rodolphus said, a strange look crossing his face.

 

“Then how did it get inside?” Hermione frowned.

 

“Only the Headmaster of Hogwarts can alter the school wards, Hermione. You tell me,” he said, challenging her to examine it for herself.

 

Hermione dropped her eyes, the implications uncomfortable. As she wrestled with the realization that the Headmaster had intentionally put all of the students at risk that year, Dily popped a beautiful meal of roasted duck, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a variety of vegetables onto the table.

 

“I did warn you, some truths cannot be unlearned,” Rodolphus said to the now very quiet witch. “Though, I am sorry his machinations put you at such risk, especially when you were so young.” 

 

“He’s always been a right royal bastard, I’m afraid.” Rabastan concurred.

 

“I’m starting to see that.” She nodded in agreement.

 

“Good.” Rabastan grinned and looked over at Rodolphus, who had stiffened a little. “I’ll stay until you return,” he said, the humor slipping off his face.

 

“Forgive me for leaving you with this heathen. If he gets out of line, hex him,” Rodolphus said and nodded to Hermione.

 

“Do you have your emergency port-key?” Rabastan asked him, worry clear on his face.

 

“I never take it off. Behave yourself with her,” he said sternly and left the room quickly.

 

Hermione looked back to Rabastan, suddenly the room feeling much smaller. “Will he be ok?”

 

“I wouldn’t worry too much. Rod knows how to play the game and his portkey is there in case he makes a fatal misstep,” Rabastan reassured her.

 

“Why was only he summoned?” she asked, trying some of her duck and attempting to ignore the little knot of worry she felt. The fact that she was worried about the fate of a Death Eater was somewhat unsettling in her mind.  

 

“The Dark Lord has been letting me recover from Azkaban, I was in somewhat worse shape than my brother and the others. Rod’s only been called this much lately because of darling Bella’s murder. Thanks for that, by the way, I never liked that batty whore.” He seemed to enjoying trying to shock the young witch with his language.

 

“I’m getting the impression that not many people did.” Hermione said, trying to remind herself that this was Rodolphus’ brother and he wasn’t going to hurt her.

 

He grinned at her. “So, how did a clever thing like you get sorted into Gryffindor? They don’t tend to be terribly deep thinkers, if you know what I mean.”

 

She rolled her eyes a little. “Some of them can be a little thick…but they’re not all like that.” She defended her house more on principal than anything else. He wasn’t wrong, after all. “Besides, Hogwarts a History said that Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of the age, and he was from Gryffindor. I thought that it would translate well for me.”

 

“Most Slytherin of you.” He raised his glass a little.

 

“Slytherin’s don’t have a monopoly on ambition you know.” She retorted.

 

“Actually we do, it’s kind of our whole reason for being.” He chuckled, thinking that other than her being a mudblood...he could see himself becoming rather fond of the sassy little witch.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Rodolphus strode through Malfoy Manor, and was directed to one of the drawing rooms. He bowed respectfully to his Lord, well aware that his days of avoiding the topic of Hermione were quite likely at an end. He would need to tackle this head on, and hope that his Master didn’t take too much out his hide over it.

 

“You summoned me, my Lord,” he said, eyes lowered slightly. Only an abject fool invited the Dark Lord to plunder their thoughts, unless of course they were at Snape’s level of mastery when it came to obfuscation.

 

“Yes, Rodolphus. I was wondering if you had any new leads on the whereabouts of the mudblood?” His tone gave nothing away.

 

“I have,” Rodolphus said carefully. His master either knew he had the girl, or he suspected. In either case lying was a very bad idea. “I was planning to come to you tomorrow to deliver my news in fact.” The truth slightly twisted perhaps, but still truth.

 

“Do not keep me in suspense then, where is she?” He all but snarled.

 

“Safely back with the Order, I imagine,” he said. “I got what I wanted from her, and for the moment I have no further use for the girl.” Rodolphus braced himself, and was not disappointed as the Cruciatus Curse hit him viciously. He was ruthlessly silent, tears squeezing out of his eyes as he rode the excruciating pain. It was like being set on fire and submerged in ice simultaneously, nerves so overstimulated that you had no idea which way was up. It cut off as suddenly as it had begun, leaving him gasping as he struggled to find composure.

 

“Explain.” His master bit out.

 

“You gave her to me to do with as I pleased. The little bitch killed my wife, a wife that never gave me an heir.” He stood slowly, hiding his weakness. “In killing Bellatrix she created a debt of honour between us, and I have forced the girl into a magical betrothal. Killing her is too quick, forcing her to be my wife will torture her every single day, for the rest of her miserable life.” He lifted his chin. “She is intelligent and powerful in her own right. Making her mine will cripple the Potter boy and will be a massive blow to the morale of the Order. She can be my eyes and ears within Hogwarts, and by extension yours, my Lord. This is the price I’ve demanded of her, and she yielded without much…persuasion.”

 

“I wanted her broken body laid out for the Order to weep over,” The dark Lord lashed out and opened a bone deep slash across Rodolphus’ face.

 

“You gave her to me, and this is what I chose to do with her.” Rodolphus didn’t dare flinch back. “I have always been one of your most loyal. I have killed, tortured, fought, and suffered for you, and I did so gladly. Nothing has changed.” The word ‘yet’, hung unspoken in the air between them, both a threat and a promise.

 

“You and your brother are dear to me, that is true…but do not think you are above obedience to my will, Rodolphus.” The Dark Lord’s tone grew silky.

 

“Never, I merely expect you to keep your word to me. The girl will suffer, that much you need not fear, but she will be my wife. The betrothal is signed, the bonding bracelet placed on her wrist. She belongs to me now, and no other hand save mine will touch her.” He said, eyes narrowed and dark possession shining from them.  

 

There was a long moment of silence, as blood streamed down Rodolphus’ face and soaked into his cloak. At length Voldemort nodded. “Very well, never let it be said that Lord Voldemort doesn’t keep his word. Just take care, Rodolphus, do not forget that you are not your father,” he warned him.

 

“Perhaps not, but like my father I take my responsibilities to the family very seriously,” Rodolphus said simply.

 

“Get out of my sight,” Voldemort dismissed him with a harsh gesture, clearly furious at being denied the death of the mudblood.

 

Rodolphus gave a polite bow again, but this time he backed out of the room, unwilling to give his back to the infuriated psychopath he was bound to serve. He made it out of the house before he collapsed onto his knees, out of view behind some bushes. The aftershocks of the torture curse wracked his body and he vomited into the grass, needing to rest before he tried to apparate. It was moments like this that he was reminded just how badly affected he still was from Azkaban, the lingering effects of malnutrition and mild hypothermia over years had lowered his ability to take magical damage. Fucking snake-faced bastard.

 

Once the ground stopped spinning, he stood slowly and finished the walk out past the wards to the apparition point. He managed to land on his feet in the front hall, but he didn’t stay that way as another wave hit him hard. He went down onto his knees, swearing as footsteps raced towards him.

 

“She doesn’t need to see this,” He called out.

 

“Miss Granger, would you please wait in the sitting room while I get my brother upstairs?” Rabastan asked, blocking the girl’s view of his fallen brother. “I’ll be back down as soon as I tend to him,” he promised, and tried to silently will her to agree.

 

Hermione nodded. “Of course.” She turned and went back to the sitting room and shut the door behind her.

 

Rabastan went over and carefully helped Rod up. “I take it you told him?” He’d never seen his brother in such a state after being summoned, the pair of them usually immune to the Dark Lord’s somewhat unpredictable temper.

 

“What was your first clue?” He snapped, leaning heavily against his brother as they made their way upstairs. He got to his bedroom through sheer force of will, fighting the tremors as he limped along. Each step was agony, but he gritted his teeth and just fought through it.

 

Rabastan sat him down on the chair in his bedroom, and grabbed the healing kit. He used Essence of Dittany to close the deep laceration on his cheek, the white gleam of bone visible and he knew why his brother hadn’t wanted the girl to see it; the wound was horrific. He gave him a blood replenishing potion, and one for pain. “There’s not much I can do about the tremors,” he said softly.

 

“They’ll pass, but you’ll need to give her my apologies. I need to sleep and let this settle,” Rodolphus whispered.

 

“Of course,” he said, and helped Rod over to the bed, tucking him in with care. “Dily will keep an eye on you, let her fuss.”

 

“I will. Thank you for staying, little brother.” Rod said quietly.

 

“Family comes first, I know that.” Rabastan gave him a small smile. “Just sleep. I’ll stay here tonight, just in case.”

 

“What do you think of Hermione?” Rodolphus asked, closing his eyes and sinking back into the bedding.

 

“Well, she hasn’t hexed me or run screaming into the night yet…so that’s positive.” He smirked. “I think she’ll do well enough.” He gave Rod as close to a seal of approval as he was ever likely to. “We can talk more later, just rest now,” he said and left the bedroom closing the door firmly behind him.

 

Hermione was pacing in the sitting room, coffee sitting untouched on the table. “Is he all right?” she asked as he came in.

 

“He’ll be fine, he just needs to rest,” Rabastan reassured her. “He just informed the Dark Lord that he won’t be killing you. In all honesty, he took it better than either of us thought he would.” He sat down and poured himself some coffee. “Unfortunately for you, that means that you’re going to have to marry my big brother after all.” He winked.

 

“Strangely enough, I can think of worse things.” Hermione said, feeling rather like Alice in Wonderland at the moment. She just wondered if she’d ever find her way out of this particular rabbit hole. After about half an hour of awkward conversation, she excused herself and slipped upstairs. Unbidden, her feet took her to Rodolphus’ bedroom. She hesitated with her hand on the doorknob and gathering her nerve she opened it.

 

The only light in the room was cast from the fireplace, shadows dancing around the large master suite. She walked over, eyes taking in the random twitches of his muscles. Remembering Professor Moody, well Barty Crouch Jr’s, lecture about the Unforgivables, she recognized the common after effects. She paused at the foot of the bed, not wanting to disturb him, but needing to see that he was alright. He’d been hurt because he’d refused to kill her, and while she knew that it wasn’t her fault, Hermione still felt responsible.

 

His eyes opened, glinting gold in the firelight. “Worried about me?” He asked softly.

 

“Are you ok?” Hermione asked.

 

He lifted his hand off the bed, inviting her to sit with him. “I’ve been hurt worse. I just need to rest.” Rod smiled a little as she came forward and took his hand, sitting on the edge of the bed.

 

Hermione reached her other hand out, fingertips grazing the pink healing skin that marked his face. “Was this because of me?”

 

“Yes.” He didn’t deny it. “He didn’t much like that I wasn’t going to torture and kill you for his amusement.” He grimaced as another wave of tremors wracked his body.

 

Hermione just held his hand through it, when it was over she gave him a weak smile. “For what it’s worth, thank you.”

 

“Stay with me, tonight?” he asked quietly. “I promise to be a perfect gentleman, I’m too hurt to be anything but really.” Rod teased a little, trying to hide just how much he wanted her there. There was something soothing about her presence. “Please, Hermione.”

 

“I’ll stay.” She nodded after a moment’s quiet contemplation.

 

“My bathroom’s through there. Dily can bring you some night clothes to change into.” He said, giving her hand one last squeeze before releasing her.

 

As she withdrew to get changed, he laid back on the bed and tried to think about the last time he’d had a witch in his bed. It had been an embarrassingly long time, even considering his stint in Azkaban. His heart nearly stopped as she came into the bedroom again, wearing what must pass for pajamas these days. The white cotton camisole had ridiculously thin little straps, clinging to her upper body alluringly, and was paired with a Gryffindor crimson pair of pajama pants. He resisted the urge to leer and merely reached over, pulling back the comforter for her. Hermione looked nervous as she got into the bed, like a baby Abraxan about to bolt. Rod carefully pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her curls.

 

“I’m not going to hurt you, little witch.” He whispered. “Just let me hold you,” he asked needing to feel her against him. Hermione nodded into his chest, and slowly began to relax into his embrace. Rodolphus closed his eyes, and just listened to the sounds of her breathing, and the crackle of the fire in the grate. Sleep came gradually, and tonight there were no nightmares, just a sweet blissful oblivion. 


	9. Confrontations

**o.o.O.o.o**

 

Hermione woke alone in Rodolphus’ bed the next morning. He’d clearly tucked her back in before leaving, and it was tempting to nestle deeper under the thick duvet. Seeing the sun peeking through the gap of the curtains however, Hermione made herself sit up, yawning and stretching a bit. Sleeping next to Rodolphus had been…strange. He’d woken her a few times in the night with shuddering tremors, but it hadn’t taken her too long to fall back to sleep after. While he’d insisted on keeping her wrapped against his chest, his hands hadn’t once strayed. She saw a robe draped across the end of the bed for her, and she smiled a little at his thoughtfulness. Once it was securely belted around her waist, she ventured out of the bedroom and headed downstairs.

 

Rodolphus was sitting at the table in the dining room, and he stood as she entered. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. How are you feeling?” She asked, suddenly feeling a little shy seeing that he was dressed as impeccably as he always was. She sat down and poured herself some orange juice.

 

“Much better, thank you.” He said. “Rabastan asked me to convey his regards, he had to leave quite early to see to some business. We didn’t want to wake you.”

 

She blushed a little and nodded, realizing that meant Rabastan probably knew she’d spent the night in his brother’s bed. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

 

“Thank you for staying last night, your presence was…helpful.” Rodolphus gave her a small heartfelt smile. “I assume you’re still planning to return to the Order today?” he asked.

 

“I need to go and face them, even if things don’t go well.” She honestly didn’t know how she was going to look at the Headmaster after all she’d learned in the last week, but she had to. Somehow.

 

He nodded. “Then I have a few things for you before you go, in case I don’t see you again before you return to school.” He stood, grabbing a little box that had been beside his hand. He offered it to her. “This will grant you some protection against casual Legilimency. It won’t stop an actual attack, but it will keep anyone from reading your surface thoughts and emotions.”

 

Hermione opened the little velvet box, and lifted out a simple necklace. There was a rough cut blue stone, on a simple silver chain. Tiny runes were carved into it, so small she almost had to squint to make them out. There was a hum of power as it sat in her hand, a taste of the enchanter’s magic, a magic she recognized. “You made this for me?” she asked.

 

“Yes, it is made from blue kyanite and set with runes to protect you from manipulation or mental influencing,” He explained. “Stones of power should be worn against the skin, and they are most effective if people are unaware you have them.”

 

Hermione put it on, tucking it under her camisole to rest between her breasts. She felt it warm as it touched her skin and that little feel of his magic remained. “Thank you.”

 

“As I said, it won’t prevent him from entering your mind aggressively, but it will stop his passive attempts to steal your thoughts.” He smiled. “After breakfast I’ll introduce you to your new owl.” He headed back to his seat.

 

Hermione’s lips quirked a little, getting used to the fact that he was very…thorough when it came to her personal safety. She was so used to doing things herself, and having to have all the answers for everyone that it was almost nice to know that just this once, she didn’t. Dily had outdone herself for breakfast, she had a plate of perfect crepes, filled with blueberries and clotted cream and topped with blueberry sauce. There was a basket of muffins on the table between them, as well as fresh fruit.

 

“Do you still want me to tell Professor Snape to speak to you about our arrangement?” she asked him, savouring her breakfast.

 

“No, now that the Dark Lord is aware…you have my permission to give him the basics. If he presses you for more details, that is when you can refer him to me. I have my own suspicions about his loyalties, but I don’t think he’d wish harm on you, or any of his students,” he said.

 

“He’s always protected us,” she agreed easily.

 

“Again, if they push you for more than you’re ready to reveal, remember you can return here. I won’t have you remaining with them if you don’t feel safe.” Rodolphus looked worried.

 

“I won’t, try not to worry too much. I’ll write tonight, once things are settled,” she promised, trying to put some of his fears to rest. It was hard when she had them too, and when her emotions were so far beyond tangled up that she couldn’t make head or tails of them. He had kidnapped her parents, forced her to agree to marry him, and he was a cold-blooded killer, and yet he was more than that. He was intelligent, cultured, witty, and incredibly protective of her. He was full of contradictions and it was hard to force her mind to try and break free of its normally hard lines of right and wrong. She was starting to see that space in between, and realized that that was where he fit; not good or evil, just Rodolphus.  

 

“If you’re finished, come with me,” Rodolphus said once she finished her crepes.

 

Hermione stood, following him to the uppermost level of the house. There was a small owlery up here, and she knew the House elves had their own private space here too.

 

“This is Smudge, and I think he’d be a good owl for you,” Rodolphus said, leading her over to a smaller owl. His feathers were the colour of coffee, and he had black markings on his face that almost left the impression that he was constantly scowling. The little owl blinked intense yellow eyes at her.

 

“He’s adorable.” Hermione smiled. “Is he a short-eared owl?” she asked.

 

“Yes. He’s got a bit of an attitude, but if you leave him loose to come and go as he pleases…he’s usually alright.” He stroked the bird’s head and winced as it nipped him sharply. “Little blighter…” he muttered.

 

“He’s perfect,” Hermione said, wondering if it was her fate to forever end up with grumpy, particular familiars.

 

“I’ll let you put him in the travel cage then.” Rodolphus chuckled a bit and fetched it for her.

 

Hermione held out her arm, and smiled as Smudge stepped gently onto her arm and then off into the cage without so much as a ruffled feather. “I should get dressed and try and convince Crooks to get into his carrier. How am I even going to get across London with everything…” She frowned.

 

“Just summon a Magi-Cab,” Rodolphus said.

 

“A what?” She frowned.

 

“A magi-cab, they have service in most of the major cities.” He looked at her.

 

“I know about the Knight Bus, but no one ever told me about…” She trailed off and mentally swore a little. There were times she hated being muggle-born. “How do you hail one?”

 

“I’ll show you, it’s not difficult,” Rodolphus said, seeing her frustration. “Anyway, they can get you anywhere you need to go in the city and they won’t turn a hair at a witch travelling with an owl and a cat.”

 

Hermione nodded. “I’ll meet you downstairs once I get everything packed.” She left him to carry Smudge downstairs and she went to her bedroom and got ready for the day. She got dressed, but felt her breakfast sitting like lead in her stomach. Amulet or not, she was going to have to lie to everyone. They’d never accept the truth, that she was marrying a Death Eater. At best they’d turn her away as a traitor, at worst they’d lock her away in a misguided attempt to protect her.

 

She ended up wearing a pair of comfortable jeans and a soft blue peasant shirt with long sleeves that came down over the tops of her hands. It would hide the bracelet until she could explain it, and the amulet was tucked out of view against her skin. Dily appeared and took her trunk downstairs for her. Hermione saw with some very great surprise that Rodolphus had coaxed Crookshanks into his carrier.

 

“I hope he didn’t scratch you too badly,” she said.

 

“He has voiced his disgust, but seemed to understand he needed to comply.” Rod chuckled. “You’ll be fine.”

 

Hermione nodded. “I know, I’m just being ridiculous.” She said.

 

Rod tapped her trunk, shrinking it down to the size of a match box, and he also cast a quick feather light charm on both the cage and carrier. “That should make it easier to manoeuver,” he said.

 

“Thank you,” she replied, not sure exactly what to say.

 

“When you get to the curb make a little circle with the tip of your wand, and the cab should arrive quickly,” he explained and reached out, taking her hand and squeezing it. “Be safe, and write to me tonight.”

 

Hermione nodded. “I will. Try and stay safe yourself.” She gripped his hand tightly for a moment before releasing him. “I have to go.”

 

“Goodbye Hermione.” He gave her a respectful half-bow.

 

“Goodbye Rodolphus, and…thank you, for everything,” she said and picked up Smudge and Crookshanks and headed out the door. She set the carriers down, and pulled out her wand making a little circle with the tip. A moment later a black handsome cab pulled up to the curb, the only difference from a muggle cab was the vibrant purple cabbie licence hanging from the mirror. The driver got out and tipped his cap.

 

“Where to Miss?” he asked and held the door open for her.

 

“10 Grimmauld Place, please,” she said and got into the cab, the two carriers fitting easily in the spacious back seat.

 

“That’ll take just a tick.” He smiled and got back in. The cab pulled smoothly away from the curb, and literally minutes later, they were pulling up in front of Grimmauld place. “Do you need help carrying anything up?” he asked.

 

“No, but thank you,” Hermione replied.

 

“That’ll be two sickles please.”

 

Hermione paid him, eternally grateful that Rodolphus had given her a small money pouch before she’d left. She waited to approach the hidden number 12, until the cab had driven off again. She felt like she was going to be sick as she rang the bell and waited for someone to open it. After a long wait, the door opened and Sirius pulled her into a tight hug.

 

“Thank Merlin,” he whispered and just held her. “Are you all right? He didn’t hurt you?” He spoke softly, even as footsteps thundered down the stairs.

 

“I’m ok, he didn’t hurt me,” she whispered quietly, feeling tears sting her eyes. Sirius released her, and she was dragged inside by Harry and Ron while Sirius grabbed the two carriers.

 

Harry was holding onto her as if he was afraid she would disappear. “Where have you been? Are you ok? What happened?” He fired questions at her, barely slowing down enough to breathe, never mind letting her answer.

 

“Ease up pup, I’m not so sure she can breathe with you holding on that tight.” Sirius chuckled.

 

Harry blushed as he released her. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s ok, I didn’t really need those ribs.” Hermione smiled, and accepted a more reserved hug from Ron. “I’m ok guys, and so are my parents. I’ll explain as much as I can…I promise,” she said.

 

“So, where did you get this little fellow?” Sirius looked at the disgruntled looking owl.

 

“I picked him up so I could send letters to my family without needing to borrow Hedwig or a school owl.” Hermione explained. “His name is Smudge.”

 

“It fits him. Harry, why don’t you take Smudge upstairs, and settle him into the attic with Hedwig and Skoll. Ron, go and let your mother know Hermione’s here and I’ll get her some tea in the kitchen mmm?” Sirius said and passed the owl off to Harry. He walked Hermione into the kitchen and got her sitting down. “Everything went well?” he asked.

 

She nodded. “I’m not marked for death anymore, and everything’s been agreed on,” she said. “I’m not going to tell the Order about him, it’s no one’s business but mine.”

 

Sirius frowned. “Hermione…”

 

“No. He’s hiding my parents for me Sirius, I can’t risk it. I won’t risk it.” Her voice was firm.

 

Sirius nodded. “Very well. I’ll need to summon Albus, and let him know you’ve arrived safely.”

 

“I know,” she said, summoning a smile as the Weasleys came into the kitchen and she was engulfed in a tight hug by Molly. She’d missed the woman’s rather over the top approach to mothering everyone in sight, and she couldn’t help but cling to her for a long moment. She felt tears leaking out of her eyes, and she didn’t know why.

 

“Oh you poor thing, you must have been scared out of your mind.” Molly drew back, seeing the tears. “You’re safe now.” She pulled her back into a hug, stroking her back soothingly.

 

“It’s just really good to see all of you again,” she said, pulling away and wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry I worried you, but I sent word as soon as I heard about the Death Eater raid. I’m just glad I got my family out when I did.” Hermione took a shaky breathe, gathering herself.

 

“Sit, let me finish the tea. Sirius, go and call for the Headmaster…no need for her to tell her story twice.” Molly took charge of the kitchen, setting some fresh scones on the table and pouring the tea.

 

Harry and Ron sat on either side of her. “I’m really glad you’re ok, ‘Mione,” Ron said quietly.

 

“Thank Ron. I got lucky,” She said just as quietly, glad that at least that wasn’t a lie. Things could have been so much worse. Rodolphus could have killed her parents and imprisoned her, among other things. Instead her family was safe, under the best protection magic could provide, and her betrothed was at least at the core a decent wizard.

 

Everyone seemed willing to just let her drink her tea while they waited for the Headmaster. It was good to be back here with her friends, and she started to let go of the tension she’d been holding onto all morning. All of it came roaring back when the Headmaster stepped into the kitchen. His blue eyes locked onto hers, and she felt a shiver go down her spine. She’d been such a fool to idolize him blindly.

 

“Ah Miss Granger, what a relief to see you here safe and sound.” He smiled and came to sit at the table.

 

“Headmaster.” She said respectfully, though it took effort.

 

“Now, I believe everyone would very much like to know where you’ve been. A great many people were searching for you, and we were all most worried about your safety.” He said, a familiar twinkle in his blue eyes.

 

“Professor Snape warned me that Rodolphus Lestrange was going to come after me, before I left the hospital wing. I didn’t want to wait around for him to show up my house. I convinced my parents of the danger we were in, and I contacted someone I know in Europe. They’ve helped me put my family into hiding, and I returned as soon as I could. When we saw the news about the massive fire on our street, I knew I’d made the right choice.” Hermione said.

 

“You should have brought them straight here, Miss Granger.” The Headmaster said reasonably.

 

“With all due respect, Headmaster, why didn’t you bring them here when you knew I’d been marked for death? Why let me return home, to a place completely unprotected, when you knew?” She asked in turn.

 

“Miss Granger, simply because you did not see…”

 

“No. My friend from Europe checked, there were no protections laid on my home. Not even a basic notification ward.” She cut him off, unable to help the bit of anger in her voice. How dare he try and lie to her face. “If I had waited for your help, we’d all be dead. Or worse.” 

 

“I must insist that you tell me who you were with, and where you’ve hidden your parents. The Order can reinforce the protections you laid.” He said.

 

“No.” Hermione said simply.

 

“Now Hermione, surely…” Arthur Weasley interjected.

 

“I couldn’t tell you, even if I wanted to,” Hermione said interrupting Arthur. 

 

“Ah, the Fidelius Charm then…and you are not the secret keeper.” Albus frowned as he was unable to read anything with casual legillimency. “Surely you understand that for the security of the Order, we need to know at least who you were with.” He tried to sound ever so reasonable.

 

“Being that I am not a member of your Order, I don’t see that,” she argued, unable to help the anger and disappointment she felt just looking at him. “You kept secrets from Harry last year, and it nearly got all of us killed. You’ll forgive me if I trust my own judgement on this.”

 

“What have you done, Miss Granger?” Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed as he was unable to read any of her surface thoughts and emotions. He’d never noticed the girl had any particular talent for occlumency, but the evidence was staring him right in the face.

 

“What I had to,” She said simply. “I traded the only thing I could for their safety, because you didn’t consider me important enough to protect.” She lifted her sleeve, displaying the bracelet, and taking a certain amount of pleasure in the shocked exclamations around the room.

 

“You will tell me his name, Miss Granger, or I don’t see how we can permit you to remain here,” Albus said, the grandfatherly façade starting to wilt around the edges.

 

“Then I’ll gather my things,” Hermione said and stood.

 

“No you won’t.” Sirius’ voice cut the tension in the room like a knife. “The last time I checked Albus, this was my home. I allow the Order to make use of it, but I am the one who decides who is and is not welcome here. Hermione Granger has the freedom of my threshold at any time she desires it or has need of it, and further more I recognize her as a part of my household until such time as she has her own.” The formal words sounded odd but held weight.

 

Hermione shivered as she felt *something* dance across her skin, a lick of magic that raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

 

Albus stood and looked between Sirius and Hermione for a long moment, seeming to weigh his options. “I am deeply disappointed that you have chosen not to trust us, Miss Granger. I thought better of you.”

 

“If she had, she’d be dead now, so I think she can manage your disappointment,” Sirius snapped waspishly, glimmers of the infamous Black temper stirring in his grey eyes. Albus gathered himself and left the kitchen. 

 

Molly came back over and stroked a hand over her hair, and Hermione just crumpled a little…aware she needed to play this just right. “I didn’t know what else to do…” She whispered and felt Molly pull her into a tight embrace.

 

“Is it finalized then?” Molly pulled back, sadness on her face but no blame or anger.

 

“Yes. The contract is signed and it’s all been agreed on,” Hermione said quietly. “Really, it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

 

“Of course it’s as bad as it sounds! I’m going to kill that Bulgarian Bastard. Its Krum isn’t it? He’s blackmailing you into this. I TOLD you those Drumstrangs were dark!” Ron snarled, steam practically pouring out of his ears.

 

“Viktor has nothing to do with this, and no one’s blackmailing me…this was my choice. I made it, and I’ll live with it,” Hermione said.

 

“What exactly is it? I mean I know it’s a bracelet, but why is Ron so pissed?” Harry frowned, looking between Hermione, Ron, and Sirius.

 

“That’s a bonding bracelet, pup. Hermione’s is magically betrothed, and has signed a binding magical contract that she must see through. She’s already told the Headmaster that she cannot reveal their identity, as it would put her family at risk. I would ask that you both respect her wishes on this.” Sirius said.

 

Ron sat down, but he was scowling. “Fine, but when this is all over, I’m going to break his bloody Bulgarian jaw,” he muttered.

 

“It’s not Viktor.” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

 

Harry nodded. “Whatever you need to keep them safe, Hermione.” Harry reached over and took her hand, squeezing it. “I mean, as long as it’s not Malfoy, I think we can all learn to deal.”

 

Hermione laughed a little as Molly set some sandwiches down for them. “No, certainly not Malfoy.” She laughed.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

The whole afternoon Harry and Ron were practically glued to her side, and it was only after dinner that Hermione was able to get a minute to herself. She was hiding out in the first floor drawing room when Sirius slipped in and warded it behind him.

 

“What happened in the kitchen earlier, I felt some kind magic after you told the Headmaster I had freedom of your threshold.” She frowned, having been thinking on it all afternoon.

 

“Until the day you get married, you’ll be a member of the Black Family in everything but name.” Sirius said. “The wards of the house will recognize you, and Kreacher will have to obey you if you give him an order. It also means that speaking against you, is speaking against me. So, if Albus wants to keep using this rathole, he needs to be careful.” He winked.

 

Hermione smiled softly. “Thank you.” She got up and gave him a hug. “That means a lot.” She whispered.

 

He rubbed her back. “So, tell me what you can.” He took her to sit down.

 

“We got really lucky. The night of the raid, we were both in my house gathering Crookshanks and some clothes so that I could stay with him for the negotiations. After it happened, we went to move my parents somewhere safer,” she said. “He told them a version of the truth, and my parents seemed to have bought it. He was surprisingly respectful of them. I know it was for my sake, but I still appreciate it. He’ll find a way to pass post to them for me, and I’ll be able to see them over holidays if we’re careful.”

 

“And the contract?” He asked.

 

“Beyond reasonable, compared to what he could have demanded. He’s written it like he’s almost certain Harry will win, and left me with full control of everything in the event that he’s killed or ends up in Azkaban. He’s not what I expected, at all.” She admitted, hoping he wouldn’t think she was being a naive fool.

 

“How do you mean?” Sirius asked, not judging at all but clearly worried for her.

“I guess I was expecting him to be…evil, cruel…or like an Adult Draco who wanted to treat me like garbage. He’s been kind, and protective…” She stopped herself from saying sweet. “He’s been a perfect gentleman, really.”

 

“Good, not all pureblood men are.” Sirius grinned a bit. “I’m glad he’s taking care of you, and regardless of what happens I think he’ll make sure you’re safe. Perhaps Azkaban has softened some of his fanaticism. It can be a good place for examining your life’s choices.” Sirius sobered a little. “I understand your reasons for not telling anyone, but if you need to talk to someone I am happy to listen.” He said.

 

“Thanks Sirius,” Hermione said sincerely.

 

“I’ll leave you to your book.” He said and dismantled the wards, stepping out into the hall. It wasn’t even five minutes later when someone else invaded her small sanctuary.

 

Hermione was instantly more aware as Professor Snape entered the room and likewise warded the door.

 

“Miss Granger, what was the very first thing I ever said to you?” he asked, dark eyes unreadable.

 

“Stop waving your hand around, you silly girl,” Hermione said, that particular memory imprinted firmly in her memory.

 

“Have you been injured in any way?” he asked and came to sit across from her. Clearly Professor Snape seemed to accept that she was the real Hermione Granger.

 

“No. I’m perfectly fine,” she said, shaking her head slightly.

 

“The Headmaster tells me that you’ve refused to tell him where you were, or who you were with. And if my suspicions are correct, you are right to conceal the knowledge.” He knew all too well how easily the Headmaster would write the girl off as damaged goods.

 

“If I tell you, can you give me your word that you will not tell the Headmaster?” Hermione asked him.

 

The potions master watched her for a long moment. “I can promise that, providing you answer any questions I have to me satisfaction.”

 

“I will answer to the extent I am allowed to.” She granted him that.

 

“Were you with Rodolphus Lestrange?” He asked her.

 

“Yes. He claimed an Honour Debt against me for the death of his wife, I had no choice but go with him.” She said quietly, and showed him the betrothal bracelet.

 

“He had your family.” The Professor reached out and took her wrist, examining the bracelet for a moment. “And you swear he has not harmed you, nor forced any liberties from you?”

 

“He has not.” She said. “He’s been very careful with me, and seems to genuinely not mean me any harm. The contract we negotiated is pretty favourable for me as well.”

 

Severus nodded. “If that ever changes, come to me. You’re bound by your obligation to him, but I am not.”

 

“Thank you, Professor Snape. He…suggested I talk to you about possibly learning Occlumency.” She said, deciding to take a chance.

 

“When we have returned to Hogwarts, come to see me during my office hours and we will make arrangements. I do hope I can depend on you to apply yourself more faithfully than Mr. Potter did.” Severus said, a tiny smile lifting the corner of his lips.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I apply myself more faithfully to everything than Harry does.”

 

“You do indeed. From what I heard of your conversation with Albus, I assume you are aware that you were left vulnerable intentionally?” he said quietly.

 

She nodded. “I am. Unfortunately for him, I’m not Harry and I won’t forgive him for this. If it was just my life, that’s fine…but he could have gotten my parents killed. And I know it wouldn’t have been quick.” She shuddered a little.

 

“It would not have been, Miss Granger.” Severus said somberly. “While you may be betrothed to Rodolphus, I would advise you to avoid taking any undue risks. I wouldn’t put it past Dolohov or one of the lesser followers to take a shot at you, thinking it would please the Dark Lord.” He said seriously. “And regardless of his promises to Rodolphus, it would please him, Miss Granger.”

 

Hermione nodded, a shiver going down her spine. “I’ll be careful, Professor.”

 

“Very well. I must go, but remember that if you need my assistance, I will do whatever I can to help you.” He promised.

 

“I appreciate that, Sir. Thank you.”

 

“Goodnight, Miss Granger.” He said and took his leave.

 

Hermione sighed and picked up her book, deciding to have an early night. She entered the little bedroom that she was sharing with Ginny and blinked, surprised to see her bed had been made up with fresh bedding, a set of her pajamas were laid out across the bed, and her writing things set up neatly on the desk.

 

“Kreacher?” She called.

 

“Yes Mistress?” He said.

 

“What’s all this?” She gestured to the bed. “You usually call me mudblood, or filth.”

 

“Young Miss is part of the House of Black, promised to the Noble House of Lestrange…clearly she is not a filthy mudblood..” he said nastily. “Does young Miss require anything else?”

 

Her jaw was hanging down. “No…thank you.” She said in a little bit of shock, and he popped out again. She sat down and wrote her letter to Rodolphus, before going and changing into her pajamas.

 

She headed up to the Attic and went over to Smudge. Clearly Hedwig and Skoll had left to go hunting. She stroked his feathers, grinning as he reached out and nibbled at one of her curls. “Take this to Rodolphus.” She said softly, giving him the letter and watching as he took off out the open window. She ran into Ginny on her way down. “Hey Gin.” She said.

 

“I was just coming to find you.” Ginny said. “Mum sent up some cookies and I thought you might like one before Ron eats them all.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Does he ever think of anything but his stomach?” She sighed and walked with the red-head to the room the boys were sharing.

 

“Sometimes he thinks about Quidditch.” Ginny smirked and opened the door.

 

Hermione sighed and followed her into the bedroom. “Ginny said there was cookies?”

 

“Mmhhhfeww.” Ron muttered, his mouth full.

 

“Lovely Ronald…” She muttered and sat down beside the boys, taking a cookie and nibbling it.

 

“So how are you doing?” Harry asked, shaking his head a bit at his best friend’s lack of manners.

 

“Just trying to settle back into normal mode…and kind of freaking out about our Owl results…”

 

“You owe me a galleon.” Ron smirked at Harry.

 

Harry sighed, and then winced as Hermione smacked his arm. “Hey!”

 

“What exactly did you bet on?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

 

“I said you couldn’t wait a full day before mentioning your OWL resul….OW!” Ron cried out as she smacked him as well.

 

“Just because I actually CARE about my marks doesn’t mean you get to make fun of me.” She grabbed the rest of the plate of cookies and stormed out of the room, a tiny smirk on her lips as she left the sputtering boys behind her. Maybe staying here for the rest of the summer wouldn’t be so horrible.


	10. Parted for Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Much love to all my readers, you guys really make my day when you review. A shorter chapter this week as Hermione and Rodolphus settle back into their routines without each other.

 

**o.o.O.o.o**

 

As if summoned by Hermione’s thoughts, Monday morning the OWL results arrived at Gimmauld Place. Hermione felt a wash of rage hit her as she saw the one glaring discrepancy on her perfect row of ‘O’s. She tossed the sheet of paper down on the table, and stormed out of the kitchen, little sparks lighting off her curls.

 

Harry’s eyebrows were up in his hairline and he hesitantly reached over and picked up her page. He whistled and shook his head. “She got an E in DADA,” he said quietly.

 

Ron gulped. “What did you get?” He was staring at his letter like it might bite him.

 

“An ‘O’, my only O actually.” He frowned over the rest of his results. He’d only pulled an E in Potions, and was honestly surprised he’d managed that well. “Guess Snape’ll be happy, he managed to get rid of me.”

 

“Not like you really wanted to take potions anyway.” Ron snorted.

 

“Without Potions, I can’t get into the Auror Program.” Harry sighed, looking up and giving Sirius a small smile. “Morning Sirius.”

 

“Morning pup, what’s with the long face?” He asked and sat down, pouring some coffee from the carafe Molly had set out.

 

“OWL results. Hermione’s in a snit because she got an E in Defence.” Harry said.

 

“And why are you so upset?” Sirius pressed a little. 

 

“I didn’t get an O in potions, so Snape won’t ever let me into his Newt Class.” He scowled. “And that means I can’t get into the Auror Program.”

 

“It actually just means you can’t apply directly from Hogwarts. I knew a lot of Aurors that took their Potions Newt after Hogwarts. You can write it at the Ministry, they usually have two or three open testing dates a year. I’m sure that if you asked her, Hermione would help you self-study.” Sirius said. “To tell you the truth, both your father and I had to get special permission to write the Potions Newt, and Remus helped us study for it independently. We managed to get the required E by the skin of our teeth.”

 

Harry looked up at him. “Really?”

 

“Truly. Fifth year we weren’t exactly all that focused on our OWLs. Your grandfather was…not terribly happy with James, or me. He sat us down and had us both write formal apology letters to some of our Professors, for wasting their time and ours.” Sirius shared that with Ron and Harry.

 

“Apology letters?” Ron looked scandalized.

 

“Mmhmm, Mr. Potter took education very seriously, and he didn’t want us wasting our potential.” Sirius said. “I know you don’t like him, but I’d suggest writing a letter to Professor Snape. He might not allow you into his NEWT class, but he might be willing to let you book practice time in one of the potions labs, and give you permission to write the NEWT if he feels you’ve put the work in. That was what Old Slughorn did for me and James.” Sirius hoped that Snivellus would at least let Harry do that, or he’d have to see about hiring a tutor for him over the summer next year.

 

Harry scowled but nodded. “I’ll think about it,” he said quietly.

 

Sirius nodded and ruffled his hair. “Sometimes, we need to swallow our pride to get things we want.” He winked at him and got up to get himself some toast.

 

Ron had tossed his own results aside, not really caring overly much about them. “Look at the bright side, we’ll have loads more time for Quidditch with only five NEWT classes, right?”

 

“Yeah.” Harry summoned a smile, deciding he just wouldn’t think too much about it for the moment. The important thing was that he’d passed most of his classes, even after all the craziness of last year. “I wonder who they’ll get to teach Defence this year?”

 

“Well let’s see, we’ve had sort-of-Voldemort, A fraud, Professor Lupin, A Death Eater, and a Ministry Toad. Maybe we’ll get a vampire or something.” Ron chuckled.

 

“Don’t laugh, it could happen.” Harry snorted and turned back to his breakfast.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Sirius found Hermione in the Library, curled up with a rather questionable book, but he didn’t comment on it. She was smart enough to not get herself into too much trouble. He sat down beside her. “I saw your OWL results, they’re very impressive Hermione,” he said.

“I should have had an O in Defence.” She looked up, a frown on her face.

 

“So, tell me why you didn’t. What happened during your examination?” Sirius asked, and he could honestly see that something about the exam was bothering her.

 

Hermione bit her bottom lip. “I did everything they asked me. I even managed to successfully banish my Boggart, and I had a lot of trouble with that back in third year. I remember everything I answered on the written and I know I didn’t make any mistakes there. That’s why I’m so upset, I *know* I didn’t do anything wrong. If I could figure out my mistake then I could improve…”

 

“Who was your examiner?” He asked, having a tiny niggling suspicion.

 

“Examiner Thompkins, he was an older wizard and frowned the whole time.” She said.

 

Sirius nodded. “What did they ask you to do for the practical?” He asked, and listened as she recited the spells that she’d been asked for.

 

“He asked you to perform a Patronus Charm?” Sirius frowned deeply.

 

Hermione nodded. “I even managed to do it, though it took two tries…it’s a difficult spell for me, but it’s not an OWL level spell. Managing to cast it at all should have gotten me bonus marks.”

 

He nodded. “I can help you draft a letter to the Ministry asking for your written evaluation for Defence, and we can see where you lost marks. If he dropped you to an E because of the Patronus charm, you can formally request a regrading. It’s not often done, but sometimes you do get a biased examiner, and every student is entitled to one challenge on the standardized tests,” Sirius said.

 

Hermione looked surprised. “I didn’t know that. Why don’t they put that into the OWL booklet we all get at the beginning of fifth year?”

 

“Likely because they don’t want people challenging their results.” Sirius chuckled a little. “But I remember Professor Slughorn helped Lily challenge one of her marks after her NEWTs.”

 

Hermione gave him a small smile. “Thanks Sirius.” The older wizard wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She leaned her head on his shoulder and just accepted the bit of platonic comfort. She loved Harry and Ron, but they just didn’t get how much her marks meant to her.

 

“You’re welcome, Hermione. I know how important your marks are to you. And since you’ll be here over the summer, if you’d like some more practical experience in Defence, I can see about warding the back garden so we can do some dueling practice. Harry and Ron could use it too, we just need to make sure Molly doesn’t catch us.” He winked playfully.

 

“As I seem to recall, this *is* your house.” Hermione smirked.

 

“True, and Harry *is* my godson.” He chuckled, seeing her point and rather approving of the new rebellious streak she was displaying. “I might even be persuaded to see about teach at least the two of you how to start the animagus transformation.”

 

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

 

“Mmmhmm.” He flicked his wand and a book flew across the room and smacked into his hand. “Read it. With war coming, you could use any advantage I can give you. This has to stay a secret, no telling anyone that doesn’t need to know,” he said seriously.

 

“I know,” she said, aware that teaching them while they were underage was highly illegal.

 

“When you’ve finished, I’ll guide you through the steps. If Harry’s able to finish the book by the end of the summer I’ll do the same for him, and the two of you can collaborate while at school.”

 

“What about Ron?” Hermione asked.

 

“Molly would cut off parts of my anatomy that I’m rather attached to if she caught me. However, if you two choose to teach Ron while at school…I don’t see how I could possibly stop you.” He grinned.

 

Hermione found herself laughing as well, some of her disappointment from her OWL results washing away. There was something about Sirius that just left you feeling warm inside, and she was grateful that Harry had him. He stood and left her to read the book in peace. Hermione used a charm to disguise the title of the advanced transfigurations text to something more innocuous, a trick she’d learned in her third year.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

It was nearly a week after Hermione had returned to the Order, when Rodolphus was summoned again. He arrived in a dark clearing, along with the rest of the Dark Lord’s Inner circle. His eyes met his brother’s across the clearing, the masks only going so far to obscure identity. He could pick out most of them easily enough by build and posture. He allowed himself a small smirk as Snape’s obsidian eyes met his. Yes, they’d be having a conversation later, and he had the impression that he could possibly need to defend himself from some creative hexes.

 

“Tonight, Albus Dumbeldore has made a fatal mistake.” Voldemort’s voice whispered around them, filling the darkness with seductive promise. A whisper of the man he had once been. “He attempted to steal something from me, something I hid carefully a very long time ago. He underestimated the protections I had layered onto it. I imagine he will soon be calling for your aide Severus.” The pale, serpent-like wizard stalked through the crowd.

 

“What does my Lord wish of me?” Severus asked, head bowed deferentially.

 

“Prolong his suffering for as long as you can, let him believe there is hope. It will secure you in his trust, and put you in an ideal position for the next stage of my plans.” Voldemort smiled cruelly, crimson eyes shifting to where Rodolphus stood. “The hunt for the mudblood has been suspended, as Rodolphus seems to deem her fitting to breed with.” There were chuckles from many of the others. “While she’s little more than an animal; she is to be shown the same deference any witch married to one of our number is. Do make certain your children know of her new status, we’d hate for her to feel…slighted.” The chuckles continued.

 

Rodolphus felt the hot surge of rage fill him, a familiar sensation to be certain, but he held onto it tightly his eyes remaining impassive as they held his Master’s.

 

“Rufus Scrimegour has been appointed Emergency Minister for Magic, with Fudge’s resignation this week. We must continue to move quietly, and begin replacing key positions within the Ministry with those either loyal to us, or controlled by us. Lucius, Corban, you will both lead those efforts together. We must not be discovered until we control the majority of departments. Do whatever you must, and use whomever you require,” he ordered them. “Antonin, you and Thorfinn will begin removing exposed members of Dumbledore’s Order. Kill or imprison them. The rest of you will assist in raids as required, that is all.” He said and disapparated without another word.

 

“A mudblood Lestrange?” Lucius Malfoy drawled, secure in his position as one of the Dark Lord’s favoured again. Retrieving the Prophecy had done wonders to restore his standing. “I realize you were in Azkaban for thirteen years, but surely there are actual witches you could drag to your bed. Surely you aren’t desperate enough to settle for that bushy-haired little savage?” he sneered.

 

“She’s witch enough to best your son in every class they’ve ever taken together,” Rodolphus responded drily, a warning edge in his voice. “Witch enough to best Bellatrix as well, and I think we all know what a feat that was.” He felt more than saw his brother move up to stand at his shoulder in case of trouble.

 

“How dare you…” Lucius’ eyes narrowed.

 

“Facts are facts, Lucius,” Severus added his voice. “The girl is strangely gifted, makes one almost certain that she’s someone’s bastard. I’m sure Lestrange has already explored that avenue, otherwise what purpose could he have for calling an Honour Debt?” He added some doubt into people’s minds. It was easier to imagine a talented illegitimate half-blood, than a talented Mudblood.

 

“Is that true?” Yaxley asked, pale blue eyes shrewd and considering.

 

“What mudblood would understand an honour debt, never mind actually capitulate to one?” Rodolphus merely shrugged. “Regardless of what she is or isn’t, she will be Lady Lestrange,” he said simply. “Your opinions are neither needed, nor wanted.” He turned and stalked away, Rabastan at his back. He could feel Snape following them and he waited behind some old oaks for the wizard.

 

“Lestrange.” Severus said, and the distant cracks of their ‘brothers’ disapparating could be heard back in the clearing.

 

“Snape.” He said in turn.

 

“She’s just a girl.” Severus said quietly, after casting a _muffilato_ around the three of them.

 

Rodolphus leaned back against the tree and nodded. “Would you rather I had tortured, raped and killed her? That is what our Lord expected me to do, and likely in front of everyone as a sick kind of amusement. I think marriage is a far kinder thing than that, and we both know that your Headmaster was quite prepared to offer her up on an altar to us. There wasn’t a shred of protection on her home, Snape. Nothing.”

 

“I know.” Severus said and raked a hand through his lank, black hair. “And worse still, she knows and made certain the whole of the Order now knows. Albus has never taken challenges to his authority well.”

 

“Not well at all, just look at what he did to Sirius Black. Anyone who’d ever met Black, knew he hated the Dark Lord with a passion. We were all stunned to find him shoved into a cell along with the rest of us. Albus is just as dangerous as the Dark Lord, worse…because he pretends to be a bastion of goodness to hide the rot at his core. I’ll protect Hermione, she’s mine now. If I were you, however, I’d examine my loyalties before changing them becomes impossible.” He cautioned him.

 

“I am loyal to the Dark Lord,” Severus said automatically.

 

“We both know that’s a lie. You’re no more loyal to him, than I am. Your loyalty died with Lily Evans, and mine died a little each time I had to watch him fuck my wife right in front of me,” he said candidly, seeing the shock in Snape’s eyes. “None of us will ever be free so long as those two are alive, they both must die.”

 

“Dangerous words, Lestrange,” Severus said, but didn’t deny it.

 

“We’re both capable of guarding our thoughts, and you’re far better at it than I. The Potter brat will win, I have no doubts in that regard, he’s simply too lucky to lose. I half wonder if your Lily didn’t bathe the child in Felix Felicius as an infant.” Rodolphus chuckled.

 

“How long have you felt this way?” Severus asked.

 

“Long enough.” Rodolphus shrugged elegantly. “While Dumbledore lives, I will not move to aid the boy. But once he is dead…” He spread his hands wide. “Perhaps the boy could think of a way to make my assistance worth the risks.” It was a risk to approach Snape, but he’d been two years ahead of him in school and he knew intimately just how badly the Dark Lord has miscalculated that Halloween night. Snape had loved that witch, deeply and desperately. There was no question in his mind that losing her had shifted his loyalties forever. Watching his behaviour, in regards to Hermione, had reinforced his suspicions.

 

Severus nodded, dark eyes pensive.

 

“Think on it, send me your answer through Hermione,” Rodolphus said inclining his head. The looming death of Dumbledore had changed things, and it opened up the board in an intriguing way. Even a week ago, he saw only three potential ends for this war. Potter would win and he would either be dead or in Azkaban, or the Dark Lord would win, but now there was an alluring fourth option. There was the possibility of them helping the Potter brat win, and walking away free in the end.

 

Rodolphus and Rabastan shared a smile and they disapparated, leaving Snape alone to consider his options. The Dark Lord had gone too far tonight. There were many things that Rodolphus would tolerate, being publically humiliated was not one of them. With Hermione safely reintegrated with the Order, and under Sirius Black’s protection, he had closed up the London House. In an emergency it would reopen for either himself or Hermione, but for the time being it would stand empty awaiting its Mistress’ return.

 

“Was it really smart to share that with Snape?” Rabastan asked, walking up to the front door of the Chateau with his brother.

 

“Risk and reward, Rabastan.” Rodolphus said quietly. “He only remains in power because of his base of support, and he’s forgotten that.” He headed straight for the drawing room, wanting a drink. “I will not be made a fool of, not by him. Not again.”

 

Rabastan watched his brother warily. “Don’t let your pride draw you into something we can’t recover from,” he cautioned him.

 

“I won’t, I know the stakes…and I’ve been running the numbers.” He sighed, tossing his glass back before pouring another for both he and Rabastan. He handed a tumbler of amber liquid to his brother. “He can’t win, and if by some act of fate he does…the outcomes aren’t favourable for us. Not as things stand now.” He sank down into his favourite chair. “With Bella alive, we fared well and her favour carried over to us both. With her dead, things are too precarious for my taste.”

 

Rabastan sat down. “You’re sure this is the right play?”

 

“As sure as I can be, I’m not a seer.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m an Arithmancer, and the numbers can only tell you so much. The rest has to be instinct, and everything I have tells me that if the Dark Lord wins, we ultimately lose.”

 

“Don’t hex me, but I have to ask if your desire to help the Potter boy is because of the girl?” Rabastan asked, having seen how quickly his brother had grasped onto the idea of her.

 

“Perhaps,” he owned, letting his head fall back. “Am I not allowed to be selfish once in my life?” he asked quietly. “Is it wrong to want something for myself, and to try and keep it?”

 

Rabastan shook his head. “No. It’s not wrong,” he answered honestly. “It’s actually a bit of a relief, to see that you’re like the rest of us mere mortals.” He teased and ducked as his brother flicked a stinging hex at him. He collapsed into a fit of laughter at the annoyed expression on Rod’s face.

 

“I was trying to have a serious conversation with you.” Rod snorted and closed his eyes.

 

“You’re too serious, sometimes what you need most is a good laugh.” Rabastan smirked. “Or a good shag, but I imagine you’ll work on making up for lost time after Yule.”

 

“One can hope.” He smirked then, realizing there was little point in pretended he hadn’t given plenty of thought to the more…pleasant aspects of his upcoming marriage. Rabastan had been privy to all of his sordid affairs, and all the various depravities he’d indulged in over the years. He’d need to moderate himself with Hermione, at least in the beginning so he didn’t frighten her off. Virginal witches were not exactly his wheelhouse, but the appeal of taking her and shaping her into a form of his choosing had a certain primal appeal.

 

“Well, here is to the best laid plans, and hoping they go off without a hitch.” Rabastan lifted his glass and saluted his brother before tossing it back.

 

 


	11. Unforseen Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I realize, reading back over the last chapter, that there may have been some confusion regarding Snape & Rodolphus’ relative ages. That was completely my fault. As far as this story is concerned, Rodolphus is 2 years older than Snape, and Rabastan is the same age as Severus. I hope that clears it up, and that you all continue to enjoy the story.

o.o.O.o.o

 

“Alright, now draw your wand and take your stance,” Sirius said to the three teens. Molly had put up quite the fuss, but surprisingly it had been Snape who’d interceded on behalf of the three teenagers. Old Snivellus had rightly pointed out that the events of June were just the beginning, and all three needed to learn to throw something with more stopping power than a stunning hex. It felt damned odd working *with* the evil git on anything, but it had been much needed support.

 

“That’s good, pup,” Sirius said, nodding approvingly at Harry’s instinctive stance. “Ron, try and mimic Harry’s stance. Hermione,” he moved to stand behind the young witch, turning her shoulders slightly and lowering her hand, “Most offensive spells have wand movements that arch upwards, by starting here you’re already set up to strike quickly and less likely to telegraph your attack. Keep as small a profile to your opponent as possible. Standing like you were presents too big a target.” He smiled when she acknowledged his advice.

 

The letter had come from the OWL Examiner yesterday, and he could see why she’d been confused about her results. Technically, she’d done everything correctly, but there was a polish lacking in her defensive skills. Unsurprising, considering they’d only had two competent professors over the last five years. The examiner had noted that she had all the pieces required to be an excellent duellist, but she needed to learn to move smoothly between her spells and better anticipate her opponent. It was a narrow margin between Outstanding and Exceeds Expectation, but she’d come just short of the mark. At least now she had a clear understanding of what she needed to work on.

 

“Now, most experienced Aurors and duelists have a core of five or six spells that they tend to rely on most. Since the goal is to keep you alive against more experience opponents, you’re not trying to win points for style here. You want something quick and effective. Ideally, you should learn two good shielding spells, and then three or four offensive hexes or curses with real stopping power. Anything I teach you three can ONLY be used in life or death situations. Is that clear? If I hear about any of you using this on Draco Malfoy or his cronies, you’ll be regretting it until you graduate. Am I understood?” He looked at all of them, eyes lingering on Harry longest.

 

“What if he…” Harry protested instantly.

 

“I don’t care if tries to murder you in your sleep…us a stunner, or _incarcerous_. These spells are borderline illegal and using them at Hogwarts could well get you expelled, or even arrested.” Sirius didn’t waver. “I need to know I can trust you, Pup. If I can’t…you won’t be part of these lessons.”

 

Harry’s face got red but he nodded. “Fine.”

 

“All right. Today I just want all of you to practice various shielding spells and see which ones work best for you. I’ll randomly fire stinging hexes at you to test them,” he said and moved off. He settled down on the far side of the garden so that he had a clear shot at any of the three and he watched Harry working on his Protego to start, as did Ron. Hermione had been reading some defensive books in the Black Library, so he was unsurprised to see her working on an obscure shield charm. He took aim at her first.

 

The shield she was casting had a goldish glow to it, and when his spell collided it crackled and absorbed the spell. He grinned and shot two more at her, testing her resolve. It was a useful spell…if you could focus hard enough to hold it. He noticed Ron watching Hermione and nailed him with a hex, chuckling as the red-head cursed, rubbing his side where the spell had clipped him. 

 

“Rule number one, Ron. Don’t let yourself be distracted by pretty witches.” Sirius winked at him.

 

Harry and Hermione were laughing at their friend, but whipped up a shield as he launched an attack on them both. The pattern continued for the full hour, with Sirius testing their shields at random, trying to catch them napping and testing their focus. By the end, even Harry was exhausted, the concerted effort of maintaining focus for nearly a full sixty minutes had taxed them all.

 

“Very well done, all of you. Practice like this will improve your stamina as well as your actual skills. Sometimes endurance is what makes the difference in a real fight.” Sirius said, a small smile on his lips. He could remember his old Auror Instructor saying something similar, and it was very true.

 

“Thanks Sirius,” Harry said.

 

“All right you three, into the house and get some lunch.” Sirius patted his godson on the back, and together the group went into the kitchen.

 

Molly was in there, lips pursed and generally looking disapproving of the whole situation, but she didn’t say anything. She set down tea, sandwiches, and a plate of chocolate biscuits for everyone to share.

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.” Hermione said gratefully, finding that she was utterly starving.

 

“You’re welcome, dear,” Molly said, her expression thawing a little. “If anyone needs me, I’ll just be straightening up the front room a little,” she said and headed off, clearly not able to stand being idle too long.

 

“Once you three are more proficient in your shielding and spells, I’ll start having you duel some of the older Order members. It will give you a more realistic expectation for facing off against Death Eaters,” Sirius said as they ate. In all honesty, he wanted to get Snape practicing with the teens…the man was possibly the most vicious duelist that Sirius knew personally, and even facing him slightly toned down would be valuable for the teens.

 

Arthur came in and nodded to everyone. “Sirius, Order meeting tonight,” he told the other wizard.

 

“Alright, that means I want all of you working on a list of spells you want to learn during our next session. They have to be legal and useful in dueling. There should be plenty of books in the library that will help you with that.” Sirius grinned.

 

“You got it, thanks Sirius.” Harry smiled.

 

“Anytime, pup.” Sirius smiled warmly.

 

Hermione smiled at them over her tea cup, thinking about the letter she had to write to Rodolphus. They’d agreed to try and keep a correspondence going while she was here at Grimmauld Place. “When are we going to Diagon Alley for our school supplies?” Hermione asked Sirius.

 

“So far the tentative plan is to take you on August third, just after the book lists arrive. We’ll have some Order Members along to make sure that you’re all safe,” Sirius said. “That means no haring off on your own, I want all of you to stay with the group. Ok?” he said, looking mostly at Harry when he said that.

 

“Yeah, we understand.” Harry said, a little miffed that they wouldn’t be able to go exploring, even though he understood the reasoning.

 

“I’m going to go and do some reading. If you guys need me I’ll be up in my room,” Hermione said, and gathered her dishes, carrying them over to the sink and setting them inside.

 

“You do realize this is the summer, right ‘Mione?” Ron gave her an incredulous look.

 

“You do realize we’re in the middle of a war?” Hermione shot back. “Forgive me if I’d like to use whatever time I have to make sure I don’t get caught off guard again.” She rolled her eyes and headed off through the house. In the bedroom she shared with Ginny, Hermione sat down at the battered old desk and settled in to write to Rodolphus. She knew he’d be pleased that Sirius was training them, and that she’d get some practical experience. It was sweet really, just how seriously he took her safety.

 

While she wrote, it occurred to her how comfortable she was writing with a quill now. It had been a hard adjustment, but now it was as natural as breathing. There was a real artistry to it, and she loved that you could put a little of yourself onto the page. Writing with a plain brio now felt strange and uncomfortable to her hand, and they’d been banished to a back junk drawer in her bedroom. Her hand halted as she remembered instantly that her junk drawer and everything else in her bedroom was gone. Destroyed by Voldemort. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a long deep breath to try and push the pain to the back of her mind. It was only stuff, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that her parents, and Crookshanks were safe.

 

She finished the letter and carefully cast a charm so only Rodolphus would be able to read it, and then sealed it with red wax. A wave of loneliness hit her suddenly just as she stood to head up to the make-shift owlery in the attic. Hermione was happy to be back with her friends, really she was…and yet she found herself missing Rodolphus as well. It was ridiculous, she’d spent a week with the man. She knew next to nothing about him, not really, and yet she felt so connected to him.

 

She smiled as Smudge fluttered into the loft, and she stroked his feathers. “Where have you been mmm? Off flirting with cute female owls?” she teased the bird.

 

The little owl just nipped lightly at her fingers, before accepting the letter.

 

“Take this to Rodolphus.” She said softly, smiling as he sailed right back out the window into the dying light.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Rodolphus sat down in front of the fire with Hermione’s letter. Rabastan had gone to bed, after some good-natured teasing about him going soft for a school girl. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he adored her letters, and was eager for even the smallest details of her regular life. The need to know and understand her was almost tangible.

 

_R,_

_I enjoyed your last letter. I hadn’t ever considered looking at Wenlock’s book from Philstor’s perspective. It gives a whole new slant to the equations and I think I’ll go back over my work from last year and see how it alters my conclusions. I actually found a copy of Philstor’s original works in the Library here, along with a few other interesting books that will keep me occupied until September at the very least._

_Sirius had decided to teach Harry, Ron, and I some practical defensive duelling. It was a fight with Molly to get her to allow it, but in the end she listened to reason. We’re at war, and the confrontation in the Department of Mysteries is only the very beginning of what’s to come. I’m not ready, none of us are. Sirius is at least trying to help us close the gap between where we are, and where we need to be. I couldn’t help but think that somehow you’d approve._

_We’ll be going to Diagon Alley on Aug. 3 rd, to get our school supplies for the year. Sirius says we’ll have guards, but I’ll make sure that I’m especially careful. I’ve been warned that while I may be betrothed to you, that someone may still be tempted to take a shot at me regardless._

_I hope you’re well, and your brother too. Write when you can._

_Yours,_

_Hermione_

He traced his finger over her signature, knowing that this would be his main source of connection to her until Yule. There was something intimate about writing letters, about pouring your thoughts onto a piece of parchment and sharing it with someone else. Perhaps that was because it was easier to say difficult things in writing, and to discuss topics that might be too delicate to broach in person. His mother had once told him that the quickest way to get to know someone was to write letters.

 

He refolded the parchment, and leaned his head back against the chair. Perhaps Rabastan was right, and he was going soft. That was something he could not afford to be as the war moved forward, there would be hard days ahead and even harder choices to make. He needed to get his head on straight and meet the challenges waiting them head on. There was no other way for them to survive. Standing, he walked over to the window, looking out at the courtyard of the ancient Châteaux. He would need to reserve his softness for Hermione alone, and steel his heart against everything else.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Diagon Alley was bright and bustling as the little entourage made their way towards Gringotts. Hermione, Harry, Ginny, and Ron were kept roughly in the middle of Arthur, Molly, Hagrid, and Tonks. Sirius had read them all the riot act about staying with the group and being aware of their surroundings, promising severe consequences if Harry should even think about stepping out of line. While Harry would scowl and huff about his fussing, Hermione knew that deep down he actually loved it. For her part, Hermione had a lot on her mind as they wove their way through the crowds.

 

The booklists had arrived on the 1st, and it was clear that a large segment of the wizarding world had decided to go and purchase their things sooner rather than later. The only advantage to shopping in this mad press of people, was that it would be harder for them to be singled out in an attack and there would be ample confusion to cover an escape. Rodolphus had reminded her in his last letter that she should try to get to Twilfit & Tattings to see about her wedding robes. She wasn’t entirely certain how she was going to manage that with the massive escort, short of admitting to Molly and Tonks that she needed to go. There was also the fact that the key in her possession was for a vault that was bound to be very deep in the bank, and she didn’t want the goblins to betray Rodolphus’ identity in front of the others.

 

“Mione?” A sharp elbow to her side pulled her out of her thoughts.

 

“I’m sorry, what?” She said, looking at Ron.

 

“Look!” He pointed to the Twin’s shop front. Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes.

 

Hermione found herself smiling brightly. “It’s brilliant Ron, we’ll have to stop on after we get everything,” she said.

 

“Too right, this is going to be bloody brilliant,” he said excitedly.

 

“Do you need to change your money over?” Molly asked Hermione as they walked.

 

“Actually, I have a vault now, so I’ll need to do and withdraw some money,” she said and bit her bottom lip. “I was wondering if we might have time to stop in at Twillfit & Tattings. It was suggested as the place to go for my wedding dress…” she said quietly, glad that the boys were chatting excitedly about the joke shop.

 

Molly’s face softened. “I’m sure we can make the time, if not today…we’ll make a special trip before you head back to school.” she promised.

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” she said, a little relief evident on her face.

 

“It’ll all be well, don’t you worry about a thing.” The older witch reassured her as they mounted the steps of the bank. “Right then, since both Hermione and Harry need to visit their vaults, they can come with me. The rest of you, just wait for us here. Come now dears, pick a teller and we’ll get everything seen to.”

 

Hermione put herself at the closest teller, presenting her key without any expression on her face.

 

“Ah, we were informed you’d be visiting. I’ll have Crackjaw take you down, Miss Granger,” the goblin said. “Will you be wanting a linked galleon purse?”

 

“What is that exactly?” she asked.

 

“For a fee of twelve sickles per anum, you can have a purse that is directly linked to your vault. No one other than you can remove galleons from the pouch and anyone else attempting to access it will be…discouraged.” The creature gave a wicked smile.

 

Hermione considered and nodded. “I think I would.”

 

“You’ll still need to visit the vault today to establish the link between the pouch and the vault, but afterwards you will not need to go to the lower levels unless it is to place something inside or withdraw items or artefacts.” He pulled paper work out and handed her a dagger. “Cut you thumb and press it to the parchment there.”

 

She quickly read it over and pressed her bloody thumb to the parchment and it flared gold. The Goblin handed her a black leather pouch, along with her key. “Thank you,” she said.

 

“Crackjaw will be waiting.” He dismissed her. “Next, please.”

 

Hermione headed over to the trolleys, a grizzled old goblin was waiting for her. The little creature had only one eye, and there was a nasty scar that distorted half his face. “Crackjaw?”

 

“I am Crackjaw,” the goblin stated. “Into the trolley, if you please.”

 

Hermione sat down in the trolley and she was expecting to wait for Molly and Harry, when the glorified mining cart sped off into the bowels of the bank. She gripped the cart tightly, feeling rather green as it spiralled downwards. “How deep are we going?” she asked as they seemed to descend forever.

 

“The Lestrange vaults are in the lowest level of the bank. Lord Lestrange has granted you early access to the Lady’s vault, but you may only remove galleons until after your marriage,” the creature informed her and finally they came to a screeching halt. He led her down a small corridor that smelled strongly of sulfur. “Key please,” he said, stopping in front of an intricately carved door.

 

Hermione handed him the key, and he pressed it into the lock before moving his hands in a complicated pattern. The door opened, green smoke spilling into the passageway around Hermione’s feet. She blinked at the sheer mass of wizarding coins in the vault. “How do I link the purse to the vault?” she finally asked.

 

“Step into the vault with the purse, and add your coins to it. It will automatically link itself to this specific vault,” he instructed her.

 

Hermione stepped in and added a generous amount of galleons to the coin purse. She’d never seen so much in one place before and it was a little humbling. She stepped out and the door slammed shut behind her, and the goblin handed her back her key.

 

“How many vaults do the Lestranges have?” she asked.

 

“Currently four, but the number can expand conditional on the number of family members at a given time. Right now there is the Lord’s vault or main family vault, the Lady’s vault, the heir vault, and one belonging to the Lord’s brother,” he said, escorting her back to the trolley. 

 

Hermione nodded, settling back in for the gut wrenching ride back to the surface. She was eternally grateful when she walked back into the bank and saw everyone there waiting for her.

 

“All set then?” Arthur asked her.

 

“All set.” She smiled in return, and together they joined the group.

 

“Alright then. Ron and Harry you both wanted to pick up some supplies for your brooms, Ginny you did too I think?” Molly organized them. “Arthur, why don’t you and Hagrid take the boys and Ginny to the Quidditch Supply store, and Tonks and I will go with Hermione to get her robes. You can meet us at Madam Malkins when you finish,” she said.

 

“Brilliant.” Harry smiled.

 

“Stay with Arthur and Hagrid.” Molly gave both teenage boys a hard look and together, she, Tonks and Hermione made their way out of the bank and headed for Twilfit & Tattings. The posh little clothing shop was tucked along the south side of the Alley, and Hermione entered first.

 

An older wizard approached, grey liberally streaking his sandy blonde hair. “May I help you Miss…?”

 

“Granger, and I hope so,” S=she said, feeling unbelievably self-conscious.

 

“Ah, Miss Granger. I was told you’d be coming in, in need of wedding robes I understand?” He smiled warmly. “I’m Mr. Tattings. Come, come…have a seat and I’ll fetch the design books.”

 

Hermione let out a breath. “Thank you.” Molly led her over to sit on the couch, while Tonks browsed near the door, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious.

 

The wizard came over and laid out several folders with different photographs and designs. “Now, just have a look and see what appeals to you. Your intended was clear that you were to have anything you wanted.” He smiled warmly.

 

Hermione flipped through the books. “Almost none of these are white…” She frowned a little.

 

“White wedding gowns haven’t really caught on in the wizarding world, it’s a fairly recent fashion trend even in the muggle world all things considered. Goes back to Queen Victoria.” Mr. Tattings smiled gently. “Now if you want white, that’s not a problem at all…but you may wish to consider a more traditional colour.”

 

Hermione nodded, mulling over his words. She set one book completely aside, drawn more to the simpler gowns. “This is beautiful.” There was a sketch done in soft lilac. It was strapless but with a moderate skirt…not over the top but with subtle beautiful details. The side of the dress almost looked like delicate petals of some flower, but it wasn’t gaudy.  

 

“Ah, you have an excellent eye. This would suit you very nicely I think.” He smiled and looked the older witch with her.

 

“Purple is a very lucky colour, and the details are very pretty.” Molly smiled, giving Hermione some support on her choice.  

 

“Let me go and select some bolts of fabric and you can choose the colour you like best.” He smiled and got up, going to the back and levitating several bolts of fine silk and satin over.

 

Hermione’s fingers gravitated instantly to one particular bolt of fabric. “This one,” she said.

 

“Lilac acromatula silk, a beautiful choice.” He nodded. “Now let’s get your measurements. I may need you for fittings closer to the date, I’m sure we can arrange something by owl.”

 

Hermione stepped up on the platform and a magical tape measure floated over and took every measurement imaginable. She relaxed as the appointment wore on, and Mr. Tattings also quickly sized some new school robes for her, and suggested a couple of robes for casual wear. She bought them and he packaged everything up for her.

 

“I’ll owl you with the date for your first fitting, Miss Granger. It was a pleasure.” He gave a polite bow.

 

“Thank you very much, Mr. Tattings,” she said and together they all left the shop.

 

“So when’s the big day?” Tonks asked, hair flashing a vibrant purple as they headed towards Madam Malkin’s.

 

“After I finish my Newts, but I wanted to start at least thinking about everything.” Hermione said, again hating the lies but knowing they were necessary. She couldn’t risk the Order trying to prevent her from going to Rodolphus over Yule.

 

“Those gowns take a lot of time to construct, Nymphradora…a smart witch starts planning early.” Molly gave the other witch a look.

 

“Don’t call me Nymphradora.” Tonk muttered, a scowl on her face as they walked into Madam Malkins. Hermione headed over to look at the racks, since she didn’t need anything else clothing wise. She could hear raised voices from the back, but didn’t pay it a lot of mind until a hand clamped down on her upper arm, long nails digging into her skin through her shirt.

 

“You murdered my sister.” A quiet voice all but hissed into her ear.

 

Hermione paled, but didn’t cause a scene. “I killed her, because she would have killed us.” She turned her head and was instantly caught in Narcissa Malfoy’s pale blue gaze.

 

“You don’t deny it then?” She released her grip on Hermione’s arm.

 

“No.” She realized that no one from her group was looking over here, some sort of attention deflecting charm then. “Your husband was there, he knows what happened.”

 

The older witch seemed to search her eyes, looking for something. “My husband tells me you’re to take my sister’s place as Lady Lestrange.”

 

Her eyes widened slightly. “He’s not wrong.” Her throat was dry, not realizing all the Death Eaters knew about her arrangement with Rodolphus. This had the potential to be very, very bad.

 

“My sister fell prey to the Black madness, it crops up from time to time,” Narcissa said quietly. “It was probably a kindness that you ended her life, before she descended further into insanity.” She took a carefully measured breath. “Being married to one of _them_ is not an easy proposition, for any witch,” Narcissa said. “You have my permission to write to me, if you find you have a need.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help but look incredulous. “Why would you ever want to help me?”

 

Narcissa sneered. “You may be a mudblood and common as dirt…but you are still a witch, and a very young, innocent one at that. I have a responsibility to look out for you, especially since my foolish cousin has declared you part of the family.” She chuckled at the look on Hermion’s face. “Yes…I felt it when he invoked that little ritual. Your name appears in the Black Grimoire now, as a ward of the House.”

 

“And in return?” Hermione asked, highly doubting Narcissa was being completely altruistic.

 

“Keep an eye on Draco for me,” she asked softly, worry flitting through her eyes.

 

Hermione nodded softly. “I will.” It didn’t hurt to keep her eyes open, and given Harry’s rivalry with Draco…she’d hear all about anything the blond ferret did anyway.

 

“Then we have an understanding,” Narcissa said and turned sharply on her heel, marching up to the counter and collecting her son, who came out throwing dark glares at Harry who was close behind.

 

Hermione felt something lift from the air around them, and she gave Tonks a reassuring smile as she nodded to her. The fact that Narcissa had been able to cast that kind of a spell under the nose of an Auror like Tonks, made her feel much less secure with the group.

 

It seemed that Harry’s run-in with Draco had fueled no small amount of paranoia in regards to the blonde Slytherin. She was already getting a headache and they hadn’t even gotten half their stops finished yet.

 

“I tell you, he’s taken the Dark Mark! You should have seen him flinch when Madam Malkin touched his left arm,” Harry said, conviction shining from his eyes.

 

Hermione rounded on him. “Enough! That’s a very serious accusation, Harry. Do you get that?” She hissed at him trying to keep her voice down. “People have been thrown in Azkaban for less. He might be a right foul git, but he’s just a kid like us. What would Voldemort want with him?” She arched an eyebrow.

 

“Why are you defending him?” Harry asked.

 

“I’m not. I’m just saying that you can’t say things like that, not without real proof, Harry. This isn’t a game, these are people’s lives,” she said, turning away and going to selects some new quills for the school year. She loved Harry, she really did, but when it came to Draco Malfoy he just got blinders on. She grabbed a box of swan feathers and a box of plain turkey quills, then chose a couple bottles of her favourite blue ink.

 

Discomfort curled in her gut as she worried about everything, and tried not to feel paranoid wondering who knew that she was being forced to marry Rodolphus. All it would take was the wrong person taunting her at the wrong moment for her whole little house of cards to come crashing down. She took a shaky breath and summoned her composure. All she had to do was get through today, and then she’d have a few more weeks before facing the issue.


	12. Acceptable Sacrifices

o.o.O.o.o

 

“Alright, just Flourish & Blotts left, and then I think we can all make a quick visit to the twin’s new shop before we call it day.” Molly announced, shepherding the group through the required stops along the alley.

 

Hermione mentally relaxed a little, put at ease by the mere thought of the book shop. She had a bevy of books to get for her coursework, and she also wanted to pick up a few things for more ‘recreational’ reading. The dueling techniques that Sirius was teaching them were incredible and she wanted to get a few supplemental texts on defensive magic, to help her really comprehend the things Sirius said during their sessions. Harry was a very practical learner, but she knew that for herself…a solid theoretical explanation really helped ground it in her brain.

 

Just stepping into Flourish & Blotts settled Hermione’s tension headache, the familiar smell of new books soothing to her in ways that were hard to really describe. They headed over to grab the text books they’d need for the coming year, and Hermione noticed Harry lingering over the potions text.

 

“You should pick up a copy, Harry.” Hermione said, the first words she’d spoken to him since their disagreement in the stationary store.

 

“You really think Snape will make an exception for me?” He gave her a dubious look, but pulled a copy of Advanced Potion making off the shelf.

 

“Have you written that letter Sirius told you to?” Hermione arched an eyebrow at him.

 

“No…” he replied sullenly.

 

“You should,” Hermione said sagely, and grabbed a different potions text in addition to the one on their book list.

 

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

 

“The Potioneer’s Advanced Herbology Guide.” She showed him the cover. “It’s a handy reference, if you look at the bottom of your book list, there’s always recommended supplemental texts.”

 

“I always ignored that,” Harry blushed a little.

 

“It’s there for a reason.” Hermione laughed, not surprised in the least. “Even if you don’t pick the books up, you should refer to them when you’re working on your assignments. There are always copies in the Library.”

 

“Thanks ‘Mione,” Harry said. “I’m sorry about earlier, I was being a bit of a prat.”

 

“It’s ok, I’m just a little stressed out by everything.” She sighed. “I’ll be fine. Ok, that’s all my school books, I’m going to go up to the second level and see if there’s anything else I want.” She gave Harry a brilliant smile and then took her school books up to the desk. She paid for them, and the clerk shrunk them down for her. That finished, her feet led her up to the somewhat more secluded stacks on the second level. The books up here were geared more for adults, and not necessarily for students. She turned down the aisle that dealt with dueling and martial magic.

 

She found a couple books that looked promising, when something further back caught her eye. She paled a little, recognizing Rodolphus standing in a shadowy corner.

 

“What are you doing here?” Hermione said, hurrying over and speaking in a hushed tone. She looked over her shoulder, afraid someone would come up here looking for her and discover him.

 

“You told me you’d be here today, did you really think I’d pass up the chance to see you?” Rodolphus smiled. “Don’t worry, there’s a mild aversion charm across the entrance to the stacks. I’ll have warning if anyone comes up here looking for you.”

 

Hermione let out a breath, and smiled. “You’re still taking a big risk being here,” she said.

 

“You’re worth the potential trouble. Now, how are you managing?” he asked, reaching out and taking her hand.

 

“Well enough, things have been pretty quiet at Head Quarters,” she said. “Sirius has us busy training, and its helped keep our minds off everything else.” Hermione tried not to dwell on how nice it felt to have him hold her hand, his thumb tracing a circle around her knuckles.

 

“I imagine it has,” he said. “I’m relieved that you’re learning to better defend yourself. I’ve reached out to your Potions Master, and offered my support. He is considering my offer, and I have asked him to relay his answer through you. I wanted you to be prepared for it, if and when he approaches you,” Rodolphus said seriously.

 

“Narcissa Malfoy approached me today,” she said quietly. “She knew I was betrothed to you. Who else knows?”

 

“The Dark Lord saw fit to announce it to all of his Death Eaters. You should assume any of your classmates with ties to the Dark Lord are aware of our arrangement.” His jaw clenched a moment, clearly not pleased with that particular development.  

 

“Shit,” she swore and closed her eyes for a moment, resisting urge to swear up a storm. “One word and everyone will end up knowing…”

 

“Ashamed of me?” he asked, his tone light but the look in his eyes anything but. He pulled her closer.

 

Hermione let out a harsh breath and leaned into his chest, letting him try and soothe her. “Not ashamed, but I am afraid of what will happen if people find out,” she admitted, knowing that once Dumbledore found out…things could get very unpleasant for her. Even more unpleasant than they already were.

 

Rod stroked her back, feeling the trembling of muscles held under tension. “The only saving grace is that the students that will be aware of it are Slytherins. They’ll approach you quietly at first to test the waters. They don’t know yet the dynamic between us, or how much power you’re set to wield once we’re joined. Muggle-born or not, you’ll be Lady Lestrange and that means you’ll have wealth and rank. Expect them to press you, but stand firm. Remember that you can use me as a threat, if you must. It will be expected,” he coached her. “What did Narcissa say?”

 

“She tried to provoke me first, when I didn’t rise to the bait, she seemed to change her approach,” she said. “She said that killing Bellatrix may have actually been a kindness…and said that I had permission to write her.” She leaned back and gave him a dubious look. “Why would she ever think I’d reach out to her?”

 

“You told me what Sirius did. In truth, she is obligated to offer you counsel and aid, as a member of the Black family. As her son, Draco should be equally bound to treat you with respect…but don’t rely on it. He’s still Lucius’ son first and foremost.” He cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking along her cheek bone.

 

Hermione melted into the touch, unable to help herself. He just seemed to effortlessly know how to slip past her defences and calm her fears. “Rodolphus, I…”

 

“Hermione!” Tonks’ voice called from the entrance to the stacks.

 

“Write to me tonight, I have letters from your parents to send back with Smudge.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Be careful.”

 

Hermione nodded. “You too.” She pulled back reluctantly and quickly moved to intercept Tonks before she could reach this section of the stacks. She pasted a brilliant smile on her face as she came out of the row and saw the now crimson-haired Auror.

 

“You shouldn’t slip off like that, Hermione. Hard to protect you when we can’t find you.” Tonks winked at her.

 

“Sorry, I was just looking for something to help me keep from getting my ass kicked by ‘Snuffles’.” She winked back.

 

“When we get back, I can always show you a few little tricks to knock my cousin on his butt,” she promised, and together the two witches head back down to the main floor of the shop. Everyone else had finally gotten their books together, and as group they left Flourish & Blotts and headed towards the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

 

Hermione couldn’t help but smile and laugh at the tiny popping fireworks and floating toys that zoomed through the air of the shop. The shelves were full of incredible things, from their Skiving Snack Boxes to Dark Magic detectors. She saw Ginny hanging out by a very lurid pink display, and she headed over to see what had caught her attention.

 

“Love potions?” Hermione arched an eyebrow at the younger girl, who had the decency to blush.

 

“Not for you little Sis,” George came around the corner.

 

“Not that you need it, from what we hear.” Fred smirked, joining in.

  

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Ginny gave them a look.

 

“Are you, or are you not, currently dating Dean Thomas now?” Fred pinned her with a look.

 

“That’s none of your business,” Ginny smirked, set the potion down and flounced off.

 

Hermione chuckled. “This is incredible, you’ve been really busy.”

 

“We’re glad you think so, Granger.” George said, plucking a product off the shelf. “We’d love your thoughts on this. Consider it on the house…in exchange for a detailed review.”

 

Hermione took it. “WWW Patented Sweet Dreams Delight.” She arched an eyebrow at them, and read the blurb on the back of the product. ‘ _Take one toffee at bedtime for nothing but the sweetest, most pleasant dreams you’ve ever had.’_ “Is it a variation on Dreamless Sleep?” she asked.

 

Fred’s grin widened. “Just try it Granger, and then let us know what you think. Make sure to check out the section by the stairs there,” he pointed. “There’s some great things you could probably make use of, knowing the trouble you three always find yourselves in.”

 

Hermione tucked the little product into her satchel and headed over to the area he’d indicated. Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, Dark Magic Detectors, and even shrieking decoys. The Darkness Powder was expensive, but she grabbed a few packages and just for fun grabbed a few things from their Wonder Witch line, just to try them out. She paid at the front, and then just milled around, waiting for everyone else to finish up. The store itself was amazing, and she could see plainly that they were making a killing, much to their mother’s chagrin.

 

“Hermione…isn’t it?” A voice came from behind her and she turned, recognizing Cormac Mclaggen.

 

“Hello Cormac,” she said politely, not sure she liked how he was looking at her. There was something on his face that made her skin just crawl, and her eyes darted around trying to spot her friends.

 

“Didn’t expect to see you in here. It’s pretty neat, right?” He said, stepping in close.

 

“Yeah it’s incredible,” she said, moving back a little. “I should probably find Harry and Ron. See you back at Hogwarts?”

 

“You can count on it.” He gave her a little eye flick that actually turned her stomach a little.

 

Hermione wasted no time in finding the boys. Ron was looking put out, and she imagined his brothers had said something to offend his delicate sensibilities. Harry was craning his neck trying to see out a window, eyes intent on something going on outside.  

 

“What are you looking at, Harry?” Hermione asked, moving to try and see what he was looking at.

 

“Malfoy. He and his mum just ducked down Knockturn Alley,” he said, eyes narrowing. “If we hurry we can follow them.” He turned as if to head down the steps to the main level.

 

“Harry, you can’t.” She grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “It’s not safe, we need to stay with the group.”

 

“I’ve got my cloak, no one will see us,” he argued impatiently.  

 

“Harry, no.” She yanked him off to the side. “Stop, I mean it.” Her eyes were dead serious. “This isn’t Hogwarts, where we can go running around under your Dad’s cloak and nothing happens. Knockturn Alley is the last place we should be going right now,” she said.

 

“Hermione…”

 

“No, I mean it. I’ll tell Tonks and Mrs. Weasley.” She didn’t budge. “I’m not going to let you run off into danger, not again. You nearly got us killed last time, didn’t you learn anything?” She felt a bit of guilt using that against him, but he had to start thinking.

 

“It’s not the same…”

 

“Yes it is, and the fact that you can’t see that means that you haven’t gotten reality through your thick skull.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Let it go. Malfoy’s no more a Death Eater than I am.” She rolled her eyes. “Now come on, let’s check out the pranks real quick before we have to go.”

 

Harry scowled at her, but went along…clearly seeing the futility of trying to sneak out now that Hermione had threatened to rat him out. After everyone had gotten their fill of the shop, they apparated back to Grimmauld Place.

 

Hermione was exhausted, but took her purchases upstairs, resizing them before packing them carefully away in her school trunk. Flopping back on the bed, she just closed her eyes and tried to absorb everything that had happened that day. Honestly, she felt like she’d been flattened by a herd of Hippogriffs, and all she really wanted was a nice hot bath and then to crawl into bed. Her stomach growled loudly, and she chuckled…deciding that food might be an idea too.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Harry paced a little, while he waited for the meeting to break up. Hermione’s words at Flourish & Blotts as well as Sirius’ harping over the last week, had finally motivated him to swallow his pride and write an apology letter to Snape. To say that he was nervous about giving it to the man was a vast understatement, and a good part of him thought that Snape would just burn it rather than read it. But just maybe, this would be a step to making things better.

 

The door opened and the Order members began to filter out. Snape was one of the last out of the kitchen and Harry swallowed nervously as he stepped forward. “Professor Snape?” he said, remembering to address the man properly.

 

“Mr. Potter?” The severe man just arched an eyebrow, looking down at him like he was something unpleasant he’d stepped in.

 

“I…I was hoping you’d read this, Sir.” He offered him the letter. “I wanted to apologize for…well everything I guess.”

 

Snape looked at the letter for a long moment, before accepting it. “School might not be in session, Mr. Potter, but I assure you, that should this letter contain any pranks or nasty enchantments…you will be longing for a detention.” His black gaze was inscrutable.

 

Harry swallowed. “It’s just a letter, sir. Honest.” The man was bloody terrifying at the best of times.  

 

“Very well.” He tucked it into his pocket. “Good night, Mr. Potter.”

 

“Goodnight…Sir.” He said, feeling somewhat ill addressing his most hated teacher respectfully. Sirius and Hermione were right of course, being an Auror like his Dad and Sirius was more important to him than his petty hatred of Snape. After what he’d seen in the pensieve last year…he couldn’t really say that he didn’t understand the man’s animosity towards James and sometimes by extension, him. The Potions Master just continued on, leaving through the front door without a backward glance.

 

Harry let the tension leech from his shoulders, and he headed into the kitchen to see if any of Mrs. Weasley’s cookies were left. He needed something sugary after that.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Severus returned to Hogwarts, using a hidden passage to enter the dungeons directly in order to bypass any of his fellow professors, lest he be forced to engage in pointless small talk. To be perfectly fair, there were very few people in residence over the summer, but they were usually the teachers that annoyed him the most. He had a date with a glass of fine wine and a good book, though he should at least attempt to read Potter’s letter. His scowl deepened as he reached his private quarters, located a stone’s throw from the Slytherin Common Room.

 

He stroked his hand down a section of the stone wall, it was completely unremarkable save for a tiny stone relief of a snake tucked up near the ceiling, the only way to mark its existence. At his touch, the stone became a heavy wooden door and it swung open for him. The traditional chambers for the Head of Slytherin House were large, and eminently comfortable. There were reasons he preferred to reside here year round, rather than return to the mouldering ruin that had been his childhood home. He only used Spinner’s End for less than reputable reasons, like illicit brewing or nefarious meetings.

 

He poured himself a glass of wine and sank into the leather sofa. A flick of his wand lit the fire in the hearth and he took a moment to let some of the stress of the day melt off him. While Severus was aware of Albus’ condition and doing his best to prolong his life, the Headmaster had not seen fit to tell anyone else of his pending expiration date. He snorted. No, Albus likely had some grand scheme to use his death for some convoluted plot. He would need to make certain parties aware of it, to avoid the blame being heaped upon his shoulders. That would be all too like Albus, to try and make him into the sacrificial lamb.

 

Severus set his wine glass down and pulled out Potter’s letter, despite the boy’s assertions, he cast a bevy of detection charms on the paper. He was frankly surprised when it came up clean. He broke the plain red wax seal, and unfolded the paper. The boy’s penmanship was as atrocious as ever, but he settled in to read it.

 

_Professor Snape,_

_After we got our OWL results, Sirius sat me down and explained that when he and my father didn’t get the marks they needed to continue in Potions, my grandfather made them write letters to their teachers to apologize for wasting their time. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I am sorry, not just for wasting your time in Potions, but for not applying myself to learning Occlumency either._

_I know now that ignoring those lessons was stupid, and it left me vulnerable to Voldemort. By not listening to you and at least trying, I nearly got my friends killed. Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Luna got hurt because I didn’t think. Looking back you’re always trying to make us think, maybe that’s why you’re always so disappointed in ~~us~~ , in me. _

_I managed to get an Exceeds Expectation on my Potions OWL, and I know that it’s not enough to be allowed into your NEWT class. I do want to be an Auror one day, but I know that I will have to wait and sit my Potions NEWT after I complete Hogwarts. I’m not asking for special favours, because I know I’m the last student you’d ever make an exception for, and I guess I can’t really blame you._

_So, I’m sorry, and at least you won’t need to put up with me in your class now._

_H. Potter_

Severus put the letter aside and scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling even more exhausted than he had been. Humble and contrite were not qualities that he associated with Potter, but it was clear that at least this once he was trying to be. Though he was loathe to admit it, Harry was not James and this letter was more like something Lily would have written, aside from the questionable grammar and penmanship. He was absolutely not going to make an exception for Potter, but perhaps he could be put on a kind of academic probation. He’d made those exceptions before, and permitted some students who fell short of the OWL mark the opportunity to sit the 6th year exam. If they could pull a high enough mark studying independently on their own, he would allow them into the 7th year class. He would think on it, there was after all no great hurry.

 

The more pressing issue weighing on his mind was Rodolphus’ offer, and his worrisome attachment to one of his students. While not a pureblood, he was very aware of the binding nature of honour debts and magical betrothals. There was no way to extricate Miss Granger from her current predicament, not without killing Rodolphus. That was still a viable option in his mind, but more intriguing was the man’s offer. Rodolphus and his brother had been on par with Lucius Malfoy in the Dark Lord’s esteem in the old days, and without question were two of his most influential followers. Winning them to Harry’s side would be a devastating blow to the Dark Lord, one that would be nearly impossible to recover from. It was also possible that when the time was right, he could leverage their support to bring others over the line as well.

 

Destroying the Dark Lord would take more than just luck and good intentions. It would be a bitter, violent struggle and they would have to fight tooth and nail for every advantage. Committing to them was a very real risk, especially so soon. One word from them to the Dark Lord about his duplicity, even with them out of favour, would carry more weight than all of Bellatrix’s baseless whispers ever had. The crazy witch might have been good enough to warm their leader’s bed, a horrifying thought in and of itself, but when it came to war counsel the Dark Lord was quite the chauvinist. Rod was a master strategist, and he had to hope that his attachment to Miss Granger would be enough to secure his dedication to this course of action.  

 

If she was…it could alter the whole course of the war. Severus picked up his wine and sipped it, trying to justify the sacrifice of the girl’s virtue, against the gains Rodolphus would bring them. He would not allow her to go into this marriage with any illusions of the man she was marrying, but if allowing Rodolphus to have her would bring about the Dark Lord’s end, that was a trade they would have to make. Cold comfort to Miss Granger, he was certain, but it was the truth.


	13. No More Pretending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Summer has to end eventually, and now it’s back to school. Not to repeat myself endlessly, but you guys are the best. I love reading your reviews and getting notifications about the Kudos everyone leaves.

**o.o.O.o.o**

 

“Get up, Miss Granger,” Severus drawled.

 

Hermione pulled herself up off the ground. Her whole side was on fire, but she gritted her teeth and focused on her Professor. After a deep breath and a slight nod of her head, she was already casting her shield charm. A curse rocketed off it, but instead of being absorbed like the charm was supposed to, it collapsed like a house of cards. Panic flooded through her as it sputtered into nothingness, leaving her completely exposed.

 

“Shit,” she swore and dove behind a transfigured boulder. The yard of Grimmauld Place had been transformed into a modified forest, to give them all a feel for battling in a natural environment.

 

“You need to be unpredictable, Miss Granger. Relying too heavily on the same shielding charm allows your opponent to anticipate you,” Severus lectured, moving swiftly around the rock only to discover she wasn’t there. A hex bounced off his shielding charm from directly behind him.

 

Hermione felt a thrill of accomplishment flood through her, before it was jerked out from under her…quite literally. An invisible hand caught her ankle and hoisted her up into the air, dangling her upside down like a ragdoll, her face at Professor Snape’s eye level. Distantly, she was glad she’d chosen to wear jeans for today’s practice session.

 

“You did well, Miss Granger.” Her Professor circled her. “Can you tell me what your biggest mistake was?”

 

“I got overconfident.” She sighed, cheeks burning in embarrassment.

 

“A failing of yours. You’d do well to remember that all the books in the world cannot replace decades of experience. Dueling is a skill, a combination of knowledge, talent, creativity, and reflexes. When all those pieces work together flawlessly, it is like a dance. When you are learning, it more akin to stumbling around in the dark, bruising your shins on every available surface.” He made a motion with his wand and she was set back down on the ground gently. “You’ll bruise your shins a few times more before you learn to dance.” He offered her a hand.

 

Hermione accepted it and stood gingerly, her ankle throbbing. “Did I improve at all from last time?” She grimaced a little, remembering his scathing evaluation of her performance against Tonks. Sirius had invited him to watch the three of them duel the young Auror and all three of them had then been forced to sit and listen to Snape tear their attempts to shreds. After that, she’d felt about three inches high.

 

“Yes, adding some misdirection was clever touch. Just remember that against a superior opponent, if you are able to, you should always try and escape rather than attack. Had you cast a disillusionment charm and hidden, I’d have been hard pressed to locate you in the heat of a real battle,” he said. “Let’s head inside, I believe Sirius and Molly are tending any injuries.”

 

Hermione nodded and limped a little as they headed inside. Unlike Sirius and Tonks, he had not restricted himself to stinging hexes. He’d hit her with something that was almost like a whip, but the stinging burning sensation had only gotten worse as they’d duelled.

 

“Professor, what was the third curse you hit me with?” she asked.

 

“Something of my own invention, Miss Granger. If your skills improve over the year, I may teach it and a few select other spells to you. Though, it will be on the condition that you do not share them with anyone else, unless I give you explicit permission to do so.” He looked at her.

 

“Not even with Harry?” She bit her bottom lip.

 

“If I wish Mr. Potter to learn those spells, I will teach him personally,” Severus said, stopping and making a subtle movement with his wand. He turned to face her, his expression intense. “I may arm you with certain things, because of the situation you find yourself in. Spells for teaching respect without causing lasting harm are different than those required in outright combat. If Lestrange is even half the wizard I believe he is, you’ll be kept out of the active fighting.” He paused a moment and took a measured breath. “Tell Rodolphus that when the time comes, I will accept his offer.”

 

Hermione nodded. “I’ll relay the message,” she promised.

 

“Burn salve will soothe the sting.” He cancelled whatever spell he’d cast and opened the door to the kitchen. Harry was getting his forearm bandaged, having gone just before her, and Ron’s black eye had been treated with a green-tinted salve.

 

“How’d you do?” Harry asked, watching her limp in with a look of sympathy.

 

“About as well as I expected.” As she sat down, Mrs. Weasley came over and checked her ankle. The Weasley matriarch tutted over the injury, but reserved her judgement for another time.  

 

“I will take my leave. I expect all of you to remember my advice,” Severus said, his eyes lingering on Harry for a long moment. “Mr. Potter, I would like a private word with you.” His dark eyes tracked Potter as he stood and walked stiffly towards the kitchen door. He led the boy into the parlour and shut the door behind them.

 

“What did you want…sir?” Harry added hastily.

 

“After reading your letter, I have decided to grant you the opportunity to prove that you are sincere,” Severus said. “In June, you will be permitted to sit the Potions Exam. You will be responsible for studying independently and you may book one of the potions labs each week for your own practice. You will not be permitted to use the school stores for your brewing, so order your supplies accordingly. While, you may ask Miss Granger for her class notes, she is not permitted to help you with your brewing. This must be all your own effort and if I am satisfied with your performance on the exam…I will admit you into the seventh year class. Is that acceptable to you?” he asked.

 

“Can I ask for feedback during the year on my work?” Harry asked.

 

“I will allow you four separate occasions to request my assistance, but that is all,” Severus allowed, but there was a bit of a dark smile on his face.

 

Harry swallowed and nodded. “I won’t disappoint you, Professor.” Harry knew that this was the only chance Snape would ever give him. If he screwed up now, that would be it.

 

“We shall see,” Severus said and headed to the floo, and was gone in a flash of green flames.

 

o.o.O.o.o

Hermione took the jar of burn salve upstairs to the bathroom and stripped off her jumper. She hissed a little at the dozens of thin, curling, red marks that covered her torso. The blue salve was soothing against the marks and stole the sting out of them. It would likely take a few days for the actual marks to disappear, but at least it didn’t hurt so much. She ended up taking her bra off because the straps irritating the marks. Moving carefully, she slipped on a set of pajamas and decided to just curl up in bed for the rest of the day.

 

They were heading back to Hogwarts tomorrow, and she was apprehensive about the situation to say the least. Rodolphus’ letters were about the only thing keeping her sane right now amidst her worries about facing the Slytherins. She’d seen the Headmaster twice since their confrontation and the man had tried to catch her gaze, but had otherwise seemed to pretend that she didn’t exist. She’d taken to wearing the amulet Rod had given her religiously…not willing to betray anything by accident.

 

The boys were dealing with the situation by actively avoiding it. Molly seemed to be very supportive, but Hermione had caught more than one almost pitying look and it was starting to wear on her nerves. She was not a victim, damn it, and it wasn’t like Rodolphus had hurt her. Falling back on the bed, Hermione closed her eyes and just wished that things could be simple in her life, just for once. In all honesty, nothing had been simple since the day Professor McGonagall had shown up on her doorstep, telling her parents about the magical world and the fact that their daughter was a witch.

 

Now, rather than growing up to be a dentist, a doctor, or a lawyer; their daughter was going to be married at seventeen to a convicted criminal and wanted fugitive. Hermione groaned and grabbed her pillow, using it to stifle a little scream at the unfairness of it all. She’d had plans for once she was finished Hogwarts, first she’d get her mastery in either charms or ancient runes, then she’d go and work in the Ministry trying to make a difference for magical creatures like House Elves and Werewolves. Now everything was all uncertain.

 

“Hermione? Are you ok?” Ginny’s voice came from the doorway.

 

“Yes…no…maybe?” She sighed, and tossed the pillow away. Her emotions were all jumbled up and she didn’t know what she was supposed to be feeling.

 

“Alright, spill,” Ginny said and sat down on the edge of the bed.

 

“Just thinking about everything and it’s a bit overwhelming.” She sighed and moved to sit up against the headboard. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “I hadn’t planned on getting married this young and I’m just freaking out a little.”

 

“Kind of understandable, given everything.” Ginny nodded. “So, what’s he like, your mystery guy? I know you can’t tell me who he is, but let’s at least dish details.” She prompted the other girl, clearly trying to cheer her up.

 

Hermione considered, realizing there was no harm in just talking ABOUT him. “Well…he’s a bit older than I am…”

 

“Come on Hermione, is he hot?” Ginny smirked. “Get right to the good stuff.”

 

Hermione blushed a little. “He’s…attractive,” she admitted.

 

“Have you kissed him?” Ginny waggled her eyebrows at her.

 

“Just a little peck, not a real kiss.” She smiled a little remembering the soft brush of lips. “I kind of want to though and it’s so weird because it’s not like I really know him.” A little of her earlier frustration bled through.

 

“I thought you said you knew him, and that’s why he was helping you hide your family?” Ginny frowned.

 

“I-well-ummm,” Hermione paled a little. “I just meant that you can know someone, but that doesn’t mean you really **_know_** them.” She stammered and was honestly floored at how utterly stupid it sounded.

 

“Uh huh.” Ginny didn’t look like she completely bought it.

 

“I guess I just wasn’t expecting to be this attracted to him,” Hermione finished with. “I thought I could look at it like a business arrangement, but I actually miss him. He just makes me feel safe. Do you think I’m completely nuts?”

 

“Totally nutters, but in a good way.” Ginny moved and gave her a hug. “And hey, there are worse things than being attracted to the wizard you’re betrothed to.” She teased. “It’ll be ok.”

 

Hermione hugged her back. “I really hope so, Gin…” she whispered. A part of her was terrified that once the truth came out, none of them would want anything to do with her. She hugged her friend a little tighter. “Promise you won’t hate me when you hear who he is.”

 

“I promise, Gryffindor’s honour,” Ginny swore, seeming to understand just how much Hermione needed to hear that.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione’s heart was in her throat as she stepped up onto the Hogwarts Express. The goodbyes at Grimmauld Place this morning had been especially hard for her and she was eternally grateful Harry hadn’t commented on her crying as she’d hugged Sirius. A little part of her hated that she’d become so dependant on her friend’s Godfather, but he was one of the few that knew the entire truth about her situation. He’d squeezed her tightly and whispered that everything would be fine. It was completely untrue, but it had been exactly what she needed to hear in that moment.

 

The simple truth was that there was no avoiding the inevitable confrontation between her and the Slytherins. The only real decision she had was whether to choose the time and place of that confrontation, or allow them that advantage. A steadying breath helped her find some courage and she looked at the boys, smiling brightly.

 

“Why don’t you take the trunks and find a compartment, I’ll go and check in with the other prefects. I’ll expect you along shortly, Ron.” She gave her red-headed friend a pointed look.

 

“Aww, come on ‘Mione…” Ron said.

 

“You’re a Prefect Ronald, you need to set a good example,” She retorted firmly and shooed them along, before heading up towards the front of the train where the Prefect’s carriage was located. She placed her hand on the latch, lifted her chin and strode confidently into the compartment. Draco Malfoy was sitting there with Pansy Parkinson and Anthony Goldstein. A little bit of relief flooded through her just seeing a member of the DA.

 

“Hey Granger, I was wondering when you’d get here.” Anthony smiled brightly. “How was your summer?” He seemed perfectly oblivious to the tension simmering between Hermione and the two Slytherins.

 

“It was lovely, thank you Goldstein.” Hermione sat down. “Malfoy, Parkinson.” She inclined her head to them, determined to be polite if nothing else. Rodolphus’ advice about using him as a threat came to mind, but she’d really rather it not come to that.

 

“Since we’re the first ones here, perhaps we should pair off and make sure all the first years find places to sit,” Draco drawled, his tone purposefully nonchalant. “Granger, you can pair with me, Pansy go with Goldstein.”

 

Hermione stood and ignored the other two as they left the compartment. She was unsurprised when Draco pulled his wand and warded the door behind the other prefects. “Do you have something to say, Malfoy?” She arched an eyebrow and was caught off guard as his hand shot forward, pushing the sleeve of her shirt back to reveal the bonding bracelet.

 

“So it’s true then, you really are going to marry Lestrange.” There was a strange look on his face, caught somewhere between disgust and pity.

 

“It’s not like I had much of a choice.” She jerked her hand away. “Who else knows?”

 

“Other than me? Theo for sure, his father tells him everything, and maybe Mira Yaxley, in 7th year,” Draco said, still watching her a little wide-eyed.  

 

“You can’t breathe a word about this Malfoy,” Hermione said quietly.

 

The blonde Slytherin merely bobbed his head in agreement. “Mother’s already told me about your new standing in the Black family and warned me to keep clear of you. I’ll keep quiet and see if I can convince Theo to do the same. I don’t need your pissed off Betrothed coming after my ass,” Draco said quietly. “Does Scarhead know?”

 

She shook her head. “And he’s not going to.”

 

“Merlin’s balls Granger, how the hell do you think you’re going to keep it from him? From anyone?” Draco looked floored.

 

“I’ll find a way. It’s not really your concern, is it?” Hermione took a deep breath and sat back down, feeling some of the tension ease around her chest. “He thinks you’ve taken the Dark Mark.” She wasn’t entirely certain why she felt the need to give him some kind of warning, but if he could run interference with his House, it seemed only fair.

 

Draco snorted and flopped down into his seat, lazily cancelling the spell on the door. “As if my father would allow that before I left Hogwarts. Potter has bigger problems coming than me.”

 

“We all do.” Hermione sighed softly, eyes going to the window as the train shuddered, starting to pull out of the station. Summer was officially over now, and the count-down to Yule had begun. A little shiver ran down her spine, and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was anticipation or dread.

 

“He hasn’t…hurt you, has he?” Draco asked in a very quiet voice, almost so softly that she nearly missed what he said. The normally arrogant boy seemed uncertain in that moment.

Hermione shook her head. “Not like he could have.” Given who Draco’s father was, she didn’t want to be too honest with Malfoy, but she could see that there was some genuine concern there. He wasn’t a good enough actor to fake it that well. She’d try and reassure him, without painting Rodolphus in too friendly a light.

 

“Just be careful, Granger. Lestrange is a scary son of a bitch…all of them that came out of Azkaban are. You can’t trust any of them,” he warned, grey eyes looking honestly worried.

 

“I didn’t know you cared.” Hermione said quietly, her words lacking bite.

 

“I don’t.” His expression changed instantly, closing off. “I just thought someone should give you a head’s up.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the Hufflepuffs arrived. Over the next several minutes, all the Prefects minus Ron, appeared and they went over some start of term business for patrols and assignments. They set a standing day and time for the weekly Prefect meeting, and shared the password for the bathroom.

 

Hermione was so preoccupied with her own thoughts, she didn’t even really notice the fact that her sleeve was still pushed back and the bracelet was visible. They all agreed to do random patrols during the trip and then to make sure they helped round up the first years once they arrived at Hogsmeade Station. She was all too happy to escape the compartment and go in search of Ron. He was always shirking his responsibilities as a Hogwarts Prefect and it drove her utterly insane. She was done covering for him, this time she was going to report him to Professor McGonagall.

 

Finally, she located him and the rest of their friends in a compartment near the rear of the train. She sat down beside Luna and gave Ron a less than friendly look. “So good of you to join us for the Prefect meeting.”

 

“Oh, sorry ‘Mione. Harry and I were talking about Quidditch.” He grinned. “I’m going to try out for Keeper and it’s going to be brilliant!”

 

“Brilliant…sure.” She rolled her eyes and huffed a little. Stupid Quidditch. Her whole world was going up in flames and all they could do was sit there talking about a silly game. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she tried to get control of herself. It wasn’t their fault after all.

 

“That’s a pretty bracelet,” Luna remarked, setting her copy of the Quibbler down.

 

“Oh,” Hermione paled a little and tugged her sleeve down over it. “Ummm, thanks Luna.”

 

“Congratulations,” Neville smiled, curiosity clear on his face. Luckily, he had the good manners not to pry.

 

“Thanks Neville, it’s umm something I’m trying to keep quiet for now.” She nervously tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Sweet Merlin, she was marrying the man that had tortured Neville’s father into insanity. A man who didn’t even try and deny that he’d done it, or even seemed sorry. Her stomach twisted violently.

 

“Hermione, are you ok?” Ginny blinked.

 

“I’m actually not feeling very well, all of the sudden. Excuse me,” she said and fled the car, heading for the bathroom. She locked the door behind her and leaned heavily against the counter, staring into her reflection. It had been easy to pretend in the isolated bubble of Grimmauld Place, but now she realized that there was no pretending. She was marrying a Death Eater, there was no getting around that. When the truth came out, she’d lose everything and everyone she cared about.


	14. Deceptions and Conditions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating, this chapter was a challenge to write. While I know everyone is impatient for the wedding, we do have a few things to cover first ;-) I hope you enjoy this chapter, and forgive me for the ending of it.
> 
> Content warning for descriptions of violence.

**o.o.O.o.o**

 

Almost three weeks in and the whispers were the worst, almost as bad as the sideways glances seemed to follow her as she walked the halls. Hermione knew full well that her secret was as safe as it could be, given the circumstances, but it still felt like she had a burning banner over her head proclaiming it to the world. This year they had yet another Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, though if she was fair this one at least seemed to know what she was doing. Professor Lara Hobbs was a retired Auror, and while she was not terribly dynamic, she seemed quite competent. Hermione was just hoping that she wasn’t secretly a Death Eater plotting to kill them all, but it wouldn’t be the first time.

 

Professor Snape had requested that she stop by his office after classes today, and she hoped that he’d come to a decision about teaching her Occulmency. While the amulet Rodolphus had given her was effective so far against the Headmaster’s passive attempts to search her mind, she knew the day was coming when she’d need more complete protection.

 

She was so preoccupied by her thoughts, that the simple tripping jinx caught her completely unprepared and she careened forward. Pain blossomed through her face as she struck the unyielding stone floor. The impact stunned her, but her sessions with Sirius, Tonks, and Professor Snape had her searching for her wand out of reflex.

 

“Did you think you could get away with it, Mudblood? Mocking our sacred traditions!” Pansy Parkinson’s voice cut through the haze in Hermione’s head. “I’ll show you what we do to mudbloods that don’t know their place!”

 

Hermione focused and threw a cutting curse blindly behind her, and scrambled to her feet, vision still swimming. A hasty shielding spell protected her as Parkinson threw another hex at her. Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she unleashed hell on the black-haired Slytherin.

 

“You think this is PRETEND!” She threw a vicious slashing hex, a dark part of herself thrilled as Pansy screamed. “You think that my killing Bellatrix Lestrange was a fluke? An Accident!” A boil curse was next, blemishes erupting all over her opponent’s face. They traded curses, back and forth until a flourish of Hermione’s wand petrified Pansy, sending her backwards with a dull thud.

 

Hermione was breathing hard, her arm throbbing from where Pansy had landed some kind of a burn curse. Hermione knelt down beside the other girl, an eerie kind of calm settling over her as she leaned closer to the girl’s face. “Listen and listen good, Parkinson. I am betrothed, and it doesn’t get more real than this. If you ever raise a wand to me again, you’ll get to see up close and personal what I did to Bellatrix Lestrange.”

 

“What exactly is going on here?” Professor Snape’s voice shattered the silence in the corridor.   


“Parkinson attacked me from behind. I was simply defending myself, sir.” Hermione moved back. “When she wouldn’t stop, I petrified her to try and keep things from escalating.” She stood, having to reach out and touch the wall to steady herself.

 

“Is that what happened, Miss Greengrass?” Severus’ eyes slid to a shadowed alcove as Daphne stepped out of the darkness and nodded.

 

“I don’t know what got into Pansy, Professor. Granger was just defending herself.” Daphne smiled sweetly. Hermione suspected that she’d heard everything.

 

“Take Miss Parkinson to the Hospital wing. Miss Granger, you will come with me. Provoked or not, dueling in the hallways is hardly the conduct of a Prefect.” He raised an eyebrow, his face betraying nothing.

 

“Yes sir,” she said quietly and walked gingerly down the hall in front of him. Not a single word passed between teacher and student, and Hermione just focused on walking straight ahead. Inside his office she went to sit in the chair, only to feel him wrap a hand around her waist to support her. He led her through a door at the back of the room that she’d honestly never noticed before.

 

“Sit,” he said, guiding her to a comfortable sofa. “How badly injured are you?”

 

“It’s mostly my head, and some weird burn on my arm,” Hermione answered, closing her eyes a moment to stop everything from spinning.

 

“Just rest a moment.” He cast a general diagnostic and then performed a charm to start healing the concussion. She’d hit it hard. “While I can understand your need for secrecy, it might not be a horrible idea to allow the knowledge of who you’re betrothed to circulate the Slytherin dorms. It would protect you to a certain degree from their continued attacks.”

 

“But what if they let it slip?” She cracked an eye open, surprised to see actual concern on her Potion Master’s face.

 

“Left with the impression that Rodolphus wishes the union kept secret, most will actively avoid earning his ire,” he said. “Secrets meant only for the Common Room are kept there, at least in Slytherin.” He fell silent as he finished casting the healing charm on her head. “There, just rest a moment with your eyes closed and you should feel much better. Then we’ll deal with your arm.”

 

“Thank you sir.” Hermione closed her eye again, sinking back into the couch and feeling the pressure and ache in her skull ease away, like water slipping down a drain. When the pain was finally gone, she opened her eyes again and sat up a little.

 

The Professor handed her a vial and a folded square of gauze. “Pain reliever and some dittany for your split lip,” he explained and sat down in the chair across from her. “While I am utterly loathe to ever agree with Alastor Moody, adopting a manner of constant vigilance might not go amiss. You’re going to be a target for both sides at some point soon, and you cannot allow yourself to be caught napping.”

 

Hermione nodded, wincing as the dittany stung her lip.

 

“Now, I asked you here to discuss your request to learn Occlumency.” He leaned back in his chair. “I will agree to take you on as my student, with a few conditions. First, you can speak of the lessons to no one, not even Potter. Secondly, you will continue to take dueling instruction from me, and finally, you must agree to view a set of memories in my penseive.”

 

“Memories? About what?” Hermione frowned.

 

“About many things. If you are going to be my student, Miss Granger, I need you to fully understand the game being played all around you. Illusions and half-truths will not keep you alive, and so I will show you the truth. Hopefully it will serve you well,” Severus said, giving nothing away.

 

Something in his tone made Hermione hesitate, but eventually she did nod. “I agree to your conditions.”

 

“Very well. Come to my office Friday evening, at 6pm and I will have the memories prepared. Dueling practice will be in an abandoned classroom here in the dungeons and I will ward it against any but us entering it. Occlumency will be each Friday night, and Dueling every Sunday morning…no exceptions. I hope I can depend on you to take this seriously.”

 

“You know that you can, sir. I know lives could depend on it,” Hermione said quietly.

 

“Indeed, now let’s have a look at your arm.” He said, shifting to the problem at hand.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione headed down for breakfast on Thursday, both nervous and excited. Normally her birthday passed without much fuss; if she was really lucky her housemates would relay their good wishes, but usually it was forgotten. This year though…she had hope that maybe someone might remember. It was early so the halls were still pretty empty, most not trickling down until closer to eight, so she was surprised to see Draco waiting for her. She tensed a little, the confrontation with Pansy still fresh in her mind.

 

“Malfoy?” She raised an eyebrow.

 

“Granger.” Draco nodded. “Is it true you threatened to kill Pansy, if she attacked you again?” His face was closed off, grey eyes watching her intently.

 

“Not in so many words, but yes,” Hermione said.

 

Draco just nodded and reached into his robes, pulling out a small box, wrapped in gold paper and tied with a red bow. “Once the Great Hall fills up a bit more, I’ll be coming over to the Gryffindor table to deliver this. It’s from my mother and it will be a confirmation of the rumor that you’ve been claimed as a ward of the Blacks. That, along with your bonding bracelet, will imply that you’re a member of the family, likely an illegitimate daughter of Sirius or Regulus. It should calm things down a little.”

 

“Why tell me this?” She frowned.

 

“So you can keep your two watch dogs from hexing me when I give you a birthday gift.” He smirked.

 

“What is it?” She still looked suspicious.

 

“Why would I ruin the surprise?” He winked and tucked the gift back in his pocket. “I’ll deliver it just before eight, make sure that your friends play along.”

 

She nodded. “You really think anyone is going to believe that I’m a Black?”

 

“It’s not that much of a stretch, actually. If your hair was darker, you could almost pass as Aunt Bella at our age. It’s kind of creepy actually.” He shuddered a bit. “Between that, and what you did to Parkinson the other night…I can sell it.”

 

“Why would you even want to?” Hermione sighed.

 

“Because Rodolphus is a scary son of a bitch, and he won’t be happy when he finds out someone attacked you. I’ll do what I can to stop it, and this is the easiest way.” Draco shrugged. “See you inside, Granger.” He headed into the Great Hall, going to the Slytherin table while Hermione went to her own.

 

Hermione settled into her usual spot, pulling out her Transfiguration text and started reviewing the section for today. She nibbled on fruit and toast, while studying the intricacies of human transfiguration. At the back of her mind, the information about Rodolphus being an animagus was running wild. She wanted to know what he was. Something told her that it was some manner of bird and obviously something predatory. She could hardly see him as a sparrow.

 

While she was chuckling over that, Smudge swooped down and dropped a package onto the table in front of her. Hermione smiled brightly and stole a piece of sausage for the owl, chuckling a bit as he nuzzled her hand before taking off again. She slipped the letter out from where it was tucked under the string, and opened it.

 

_Hermione,_

_May I offer my very best wishes on your birthday, and I hope this letter finds you well. I imagine you are just settling into your classes, and I hope that the attention you mentioned in your last letter fades as the work load increases. Most of your classmates will find the increased work load for the NEWT studies somewhat more difficult than their OWL years, and it should leave them little time for gossip or speculation about your current situation._

_Yesterday, I found myself in the music room and I realized that I missed you, more than I imagined I would. We spent such a short time together, and yet you’ve left your mark in my life. Forgive my sentimentality, but the months between now and Yule seem far too lonely at the moment. I hope that you will write often, to soften your absence._

_The package has been magically shrunken, to resize it simply tap it twice with your wand. There is also a gift from your parents inside and a letter._

_Happy Birthday Hermione, enjoy it and I hope your day is a little brighter for this letter,_

Hermione smiled and refolded the letter. He was always very careful to not put anything in the letters that could identify him, while still sharing his thoughts and feelings with her. She pulled her wand out and tapped the parcel twice. She untied the string, and pulled back the plain brown paper. Slowly, as the lid was lifted away, it revealed a mound of black fabric. She gently took it out of the box and held it up, drawing in a quick breath. It was an exquisite long coat, made of the softest black wool and lined in velvet. Black fur edged the trumpet sleeves and the hood, and the buttons were gold. It was cut in a way that it would nip in slightly at the waist and then flare out dramatically.

 

“That’s gorgeous!” Lavender exclaimed and came over. “I saw something just like that in the new issue of Witch Weekly, it’s the latest style. Who’s it from?”

 

“My betrothed, it’s a birthday gift.” Hermione blushed a little and reluctantly put the coat back into the box. There were two smaller packages at the bottom and she pulled them out next. The first was from her parents, a pair of beautiful diamond earrings, with a black teardrop pearl dangling from the diamond stud. They were simple, but very elegant. She placed them back in the box and turned to the final package. It was a rectangular box, wrapped in black paper with a silver ribbon. Tucked under the ribbon was a short note.

 

_For my brother’s beautiful witch,_

_Happy Birthday Gorgeous, I hope you enjoy your present._

_~The Unrepentant Heathen_

She laughed and opened the box, finding two dozen perfect chocolate truffles. Carefully she packed everything away and was about to shrink it back down to put in her bag, when the boys tromped in and threw themselves down at the table.

 

“Morning…” Ron muttered, shovelling food onto his plate.

 

“Hey,” Harry yawned and reached for some orange juice.

 

“Morning.” She said, rolling her eyes a little. “Guys, I need a favour.”

 

“Sure, what is it?” Harry asked, as Ron just nodded.

 

“Malfoy’s going to come over here, I need you to just be quiet and let him talk to me.” Hermione’s face was serious.

 

“Malfoy? What could the ferret possibly have to say?” Harry scowled.

 

“It’s…about what Sirius did when he made me part of the Blacks. Just play along ok? Please?” She looked at them both, and they nodded though Harry looked very unhappy about it. Her eyes flicked over to the Slytherin table and she gave Draco the barest of nods.

 

The room seemed to grow slightly quieter as Malfoy stood and walked purposefully over to the Gryffindor table, his manner relaxed and unhurried. He nodded to her.

 

“Happy birthday, Granger. My mother sends her regards, and thought that it might be best to give this to you in person rather than sending a strange owl.” He offered her the small wrapped box.

 

“Thank you, Malfoy. That was very thoughtful.” She said and accepted it.

 

Malfoy just nodded curtly and turned on his heel, retreating from enemy territory as quickly as he could.

 

Hermione let out the breath she’d been holding and she carefully unwrapped the box, aware that Ron and Harry were now leaning in. There was a small card, laying on top of a mound of tissue paper.

 

_Coming of age is a special time for any witch, and in our family it is traditional to give a piece of jewelry. While you may not be a Black by birth, my cousin has claimed you as such and so I believe this will be appropriate. No matter what lies ahead, take these words to heart._

_~Narcissa Malfoy nee Black_

Hermione set the card aside and pulled the tissue paper away. There was a small jeweler’s box, and she opened it. Inside was a beautiful locket made of rose gold, the front was inscribed with the etching of a rose, surrounded by intertwining thorny vines, and inside there were two inscriptions: _Some women fear the fire, some women simply become it_ & _Well behaved women rarely make history._

 

“A necklace?” Harry frowned a little.

 

“Is it cursed?” Ron looked dubious.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and cast a basic detection spell over it. “There’s no spells or enchantments on it at all. It’s just a necklace, a birthday gift in fact.” She said and boldly put it on, mentally laughing as both boys looked panicked.

 

“Happy Birthday, I uh…forgot your present up in the dorm.” Harry said.

 

Hermione just laughed. “Its fine, we can celebrate after classes.” She shrunk the card and box from Nacissa’s gift and put it in her bag as well. “I’ll see you guys later, I’m going to swing by the Library before class.” She shouldered her bag and headed out of the Great Hall, very aware of the open stares from the Slytherin table.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Audra Yaxley narrowed her blue eyes as Draco sat back down. “So the rumors are true, she *is* a half-blood then.” Her father had told her about the rumor circulating the Death Eater ranks, and tasked her with watching the girl to try and discover what secret Rodolphus was hiding.

 

Draco arched an eyebrow. “Since when does Black family business concern you, Yaxley?” he said archly. “My mother asked me to deliver the gift, so I did.”

 

“Why else would your mother be sending something to a mudblood?” Audra snorted. “I don’t see what the big secret is. Better some Black’s bastard, than a nameless daughter of a muggle.”

 

“Take care, Lestrange won’t stand for anyone slandering her. Pansy had best hope that he doesn’t hear about her little ill-conceived ambush, or there will be hell to pay.” His steely grey eyes carrying a clear warning. “And that’s if Granger doesn’t get to her first. She killed my Aunt Bellatrix in a duel, I’d say she’s dangerous enough on her own.”

 

The students sitting around them seemed to take that information in and reserve it for later contemplation. Things were changing, and they all needed to be prepared for whichever way the wind decided to blow.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Friday evening found her standing in front of Professor Snape’s office, a wave of trepidation washing over her. She raised her hand and finally knocked, entering when he called her forward. She needed the Occulmency lessons, the dueling practice would be invaluable as well, but his requirement that she view some memories worried her. She didn’t know if she really wanted to see them, or how it would change the way she viewed the people around her.

 

Her Professor was sitting at the desk, and he motioned for her to take a seat as well. Hermione eased into the wooden chair and her eyes were drawn to the silver bowl sitting off to the side.

 

“I see Mr. Malfoy has but his little plan into play.” Snape observed, nodding to the locket she was wearing.

 

Hermione nodded. “He said it would have people guessing there was some hidden link between me and the Blacks.”

 

“Not so hidden.” Snape chucked. “The rose ringed in thorns has been a classic symbol for illegitimate Black children over the years. The peacock is used for Malfoy bastards, as a point of curiosity for you. Those with the sense to recognize the symbol, will assume you are Sirius’ illegitimate daughter and that will grant you a measure of security, even past that of marrying Rodolphus. It also explains why you pretend to be muggle-born, since claiming a known criminal as your father would hardly be a good idea.” There was a certain amount of amusement on his face at the thought of Black being this girl’s father. It could even be true…given that he knew how much the mutt had whored around in his younger years.

 

Hermione blushed at that, resisting the immediate urge to tear the locket off. It was a brilliantly simple solution, particularly if they just refused to confirm or deny her parentage. They more they avoided the question, the more people would believe it. “I guess it could be worse…”

 

“Indeed. Now, I have placed the memories in the pensieve. I can enter the memories with you, or you may view them on your own. If you appear in too much distress I can remove you in either situation.” He said, refocusing on the matter at hand.

 

Hermione swallowed thickly. “I think I need to see them on my own,” she said and tried to summon up some courage. “What do I need to do?”

 

“Walk over to the bowl, and lean forward. You will be pulled into the memory, able to see and hear everything but no one will see you. You cannot interact with the memory or change anything, nor can anything you see harm you.” Severus explained and walked over to table where the silver bowl was. “No sense in delaying the inevitable, Miss Granger.”

 

Hermione swallowed thickly and stood, walking over towards the basin as though approaching her own execution. What was it that Rodolphus had said, some truths could not be unlearned? She looked at the swirling silver liquid and with one final steadying breath, she leaned forward and dipped her face into the cool substance.

 

_There was a sickening sensation of falling and then she was standing in a strange muted landscape. It was an open field, the grass incredibly tall coming almost to her waist. There were robes figures in black everywhere, bone white masks obscuring their faces. She walked through them, wondering where Professor Snape was, knowing this had to be his memory. She gasped when she saw him, looking no older than she was now. He was kneeling at the feet of a man who had to be Lord Voldemort, from before his first fall. The Dark Lord himself, eyes burning crimson and a face that could have been described as striking._

_The young Severus Snape was…not what she’d been expecting. He was skinny, his clothes too big on his lanky frame. The clothes themselves were patched, and threadbare, and she could see a brilliant purple bruise covering half of his face._

_“Ah Severus, at last you have come before me. I trust you did as I commanded and avenged your poor mother?” The Dark Lord reached down and cupped Severus’ face in his hand, a thumb tracing the edge of the bruise._

_“The muggle is dead, my Lord. I offer myself to you, however you should choose to use me.” His tone was steady, but he sounded broken and in pain._

_“It is no small thing to kill your own father, muggle though he was. Do not seek to hide your pain from me, young Severus. Embrace it, let it feed your power. Loyalty until death, and obedience without question is what I require. Do you swear that to me?”_

_“I so swear, my Lord,” Severus said._

_“Give me your arm.”_

_Hermione watched in fascinated horror as Snape received the dark Mark, his screams echoing endlessly in the darkness. There was a smell of burning flesh, the coppery tang of blood, and even the acrid smell of urine. It went on and on until Severus passed out and the vision faded to black, everything shifted around her and she stumbled as the penseive dragged her into another memory._

_The stone corridor she found herself standing in was dark and illuminated weakly by the flickering of a lantern, held by a cloaked figure ahead. Hermione followed it, and stepped into what she could only describe as a torture chamber. There was a man tied to chair, and a spreading pool of blood on the floor betrayed just what was going on here._

_“Has he spoken?” Severus’ voice cut the eerie silence._

_“Nothing useful, not yet anyway. We’re just getting started though,” replied the man leaning over the prisoner. The voice was all too familiar and she wanted nothing more than to turn and run out the door, but she found that she couldn’t. Rodolphus turned, white shirt covered in bloody streaks and spots. He tossed a knife down on the table. “Get some blood replenisher down him, and heal the wounds. Once he’s been healed, I’ll have another crack at him.” He used a wet towel to clean some of the blood off his face._

_Hermione’s gaze was dragged to the man in the chair. She felt ill as she recognized the face of Benjy Fenwick, one of the members of the Order that had been murdered in the lead up to that fateful Halloween night. The dull gleam of bone was visible through the vicious lacerations across his chest. He was naked, blood painting his skin liberally. Barely conscious, she watched in horror as he spat blood at Rodolphus._

_“I’ll never tell you anything, you sick son of a bitch!” he snarled._

_Rod struck like a snake, backhanding him and then fisting a hand in his shaggy brown hair. “You will tell me everything, anything I want to know or I swear to fucking Merlin, I will find your filthy mudblood mother and drag her in here. I will take her apart, piece by bloody piece until you do talk, and only then will I put her out of her misery. Or maybe I’ll hand her over to Greyback and they can have a little fun before they kill her.” A cruel smile twisted his features. “Only an animal would fuck a mudblood whore like her.”_

_“You fucking bastard!” Benjy swore, tears streaming down his face to mix with the blood. “Damn you to hell…I’ll tell you, just leave her out of it.”_

_“Good boy, I knew you’d come around.” He patted his cheek and moved back to let Snape heal him._

_Again the memory dragged her along, this time to a muggle neighbourhood. Fire lit the sky and screams surrounded her. She started running, lost in the panicked sea around her. Green light shot through the air, dropping muggles like flies. A familiar laugh made her turn, seeing Bellatrix torturing a muggle woman. The woman’s screams were pitiful, like a wounded rabbit. Hermione drew closer, watching with disgust as Voldemort came up behind her, trailing his lips along her neck as she applied the cruciatus curse. Bile rose up in her throat as he roughly shoved the dark witch down to her knees, opening his pants and moving behind her. In the middle of death and destruction, she couldn’t help but watch Voldemort fucking Bellatrix roughly. He pressed her down over her victim, cursing the muggle woman as he did._

_Hermione tore her eyes away, only to see other Death Eaters indulging other disgusting urges with their victims. Some were torturing them, other raping, and some dragging each other into the shadows to sate the lust that their vicious attack had inspired. Everywhere she looked she was surrounded by depravity and she couldn’t take it. She tried to run but there was no end to it, constantly looping around her like a horrible, sick, nightmare._

Suddenly, she was flying backwards from the bowl and Professor Snape’s hands. Her face wet with tears and then she was violently ill, all over the floor. Her body shook violently and recoiled from her professor when he knelt beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

 

“Miss Granger, this is a calming potion. I want you to drink it.” He held it out, careful not to try and touch her again.

 

Hermione took it and drank it back, feeling a wave of artificial calm descend on her. Even through that pleasant haze, the sheer horror of what she’d seen made her want to just run fast and far away.

 

“Why would you show me that?” She looked at him through red-rimmed eyes. “What good does seeing that do me?”

 

“You need to understand the people you’re dealing with Miss Granger,” Severus said simply. “It’s far too easy to be lured into a false sense of security.”

 

“I knew what they were…I didn’t need to see that!” She slowly got to her feet and managed to make it over to the chair. “I have to marry him, do you understand that? I have to let him…and seeing that…” She closed her eyes and tried to get a hold of herself. Sweet Merlin, how was she supposed to let him touch her after seeing that? Images of Benjy’s almost flayed body paraded before her eyes. The almost burning rage in Rod’s eyes as he’d struck the half-dead man, and the cruel twist of his lips wouldn’t leave her.  

 

“You deserved the truth, about all of us. Don’t allow yourself to believe in a pretty lie, it will only bite you all the harder later.” Severus said and brought her over a glass of firewhiskey. “Drink, it will help.”

 

Hermione just reached out and took it, taking a heavy swallow. “I hate you right now.”

 

“You have every right to.” He didn’t argue with her. “Hate me all you like, but the things I will teach you will get you through this war alive. I was a foolish, naïve boy when I went to them, and I had no idea what they really were. I won’t send you into the depths of their world unprepared. Know you enemy Miss Granger, but more importantly, know your friends the best. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the unspeakable.”

 

Hermione dropped her eyes back down to her drink, feeling fresh tears fall down her face. She understood his reasons, but she didn’t know if she’d ever forgive him for this.   


	15. Difficult Conversations

**o.o.O.o.o**

“It’s been more than three weeks, Rabastan.” Rod was pacing in the study, a scowl fixed firmly on his face. To say that he was worried fell epically short at the moment. He’d gotten a letter from Hermione the night of her birthday, but not a single word since then. At first he’d played it off as she’d been busy with school work, but as October crawled on that excuse rang hollow. Something had happened, and clearly it was something significant.

 

“Their Hogsmeade weekend is coming up. It might be an opportunity to try and find out what’s eating her,” Rabastan suggested.

 

“The last place I should be right now is within a hundred kilometers of Hogwarts…but you’re not wrong.” He dragged a hand through his hair, frustrated that he had to risk that kind of exposure, but he couldn’t risk leaving whatever this was alone. He was risking everything with his play to bring Hermione onto his side, the overtures made to Snape could not be taken back without dire consequence, and marrying the witch was now no longer optional. They had committed themselves to a binding magical contract, and no matter how cold their feet were, they had to uphold it.

 

“Grab her and apparate her to the town house, then you can work through whatever the hell it is that’s eating her,” Rabastan said, worry clear on his face.

 

He nodded and sank down into his chair, feeling powerless at the moment and bitterly resenting that a seventeen year old witch had reduced him to this. He had admitted that he’d grown fond of her, expressed some vulnerability and she’d cut him off without warning or explanation. He knew things were tense at the school, between the engagement she couldn’t discuss and her fears about being outed by a Slytherin student, but that still didn’t add up to this sudden silence. Up until her birthday, it had seemed like she’d trusted him as a confidant for the worries she was carrying. He was torn between anger and concern, and knew that before this weekend he’d need to get his emotions in line. Confronting her while his temper was this frayed was a recipe for utter catastrophe.

 

There was a searing pain in his forearm and he saw his brother wincing just as much. A general summons most likely then. He stood and summoned his robes and mask. Together, he and Rabastan disapparated, following the pull of their master’s call.

 

Malfoy Manor loomed ahead and together they walked up the crushed limestone path, the odd squawking of peacocks disturbing the relative peace of the evening. The walk gave Rodolphus time to school his mind and order his thoughts. He needed to find him own calm, let go of his frustration and confusion or the Dark Lord would play him like a marionette tonight. Weakness was always exploited, without exception, and their Master was always adept at ferreting those emotions out.

 

An ancient elf showed them to the dining room, where a good number of their brethren were already seated. Not all of the Death Eaters, but the majority of the Inner Circle was present. They took a pair of seats beside Lucius and Narcissa, both Lestrange brothers affecting a bored expression for the time being. Severus was the last to arrive, but that was normal for him. Escaping a school full of children was hardly conducive to punctuality.

 

“Ah, Severus, so glad you could make it.” The Dark Lord fairly purred, apparently in a good mood.

 

“Forgive my tardiness my Lord, I had to extricate myself from a staff meeting,” he said and took his seat.

 

“What is your report on the Headmaster’s condition?”

 

“As you commanded, I have slowed the progression of the curse. He is managing the pain with potent draughts, but they cannot ease all the symptoms. Even contained, I estimate the curse will kill him in a matter of months, seven or eight at the very most,” Severus reported.

 

“Drag his suffering out for as long as you can.” The Dark Lord grinned cruelly. “The longer he suffers, the more pronounced the side effects will become. The wizarding world will watch him slowly lose his senses and because the great fool is too proud to admit what has happened, they will never know the true cause. The closer to the end of the school year we can move his death, the better. I want everything in place for you to be named Headmaster, with no one the wiser for it.”

 

“As you wish, my Lord.” Severus inclined his head, expression stoic.

 

“Where are we with our infiltration of the DMLE?” Voldemort’s ruby gaze fell on Lucius.

 

“With Madam Bone’s tragic accident this summer, Pius Thickness had been appointed to Department Head, and he is firmly under our control via Imperius. He was a vocal opponent of ours, so no one will suspect that he’s working with us now.” Lucius smiled darkly. “Fudge is still clinging to power, but there are grumbles about having him replaced soon. Scrimegour is the front runner among those that believe Dumbledore and Potter about our Lord’s return, but they are still in the minority. Willful blindness works very much in our favour right now.”

 

“Good, see that those voice remain in the minority. The more control we have without inciting open panic, the better. Have one of the more neutral voices bring forward the proposal I drafted. I want attendance at Hogwarts mandatory for all magical children within the British Isles, those unable to afford supplies and the like will have them provided. Attendance has been dropping over the last century, and I want all of the children in one place,” he said.

 

“Yes, my Lord. It will be done.” Lucius seemed relieved to have completed his report without incident.

 

The reports continued, and Rodolphus realized that his Lord has someone managed to find some of his lost reason, his approach was saner and more measured. It would make him more difficult to defeat, but nothing was ever impossible. Those traitorous thoughts were kept firmly locked in the inner vault of his mind, separate from his usual musings. At long last, things seemed to be wrapping up and he breathed a mental sigh of relief. He wanted a hot shower, and his own bed. The issues with Hermione would keep until morning, when he could look at it with fresh eyes.

 

“You may go,” the Dark Lord excused them with a casual wave of his hand. “Rodolphus, Narcissa, and Lucius…I would like a word,” he said as they all came to their feet.

 

“I’ll see you at home,” Rabastan whispered quietly, touching his brother’s shoulder.

 

Rodolphus nodded and walked around the table to stand by his Master. “Was there something you required of me, my Lord?” he asked.

 

“More something I wish to give you,” Voldemort said and gestured for him to take a seat again. “I realize my actions, after the death of Bellatrix, have created something of a rift between us, however slight it might be, and I must seek to mend it.”

 

“Your actions are not for me to judge, my Lord,” Rodolphus said carefully, not certain he liked where this was going.

 

“You judge everything, Rodolphus, it’s why you’re so very good at planning attacks and strategies. You see everything and weigh it against our goals to see how you can best make use of it. Your father was the same, so do not try and deny it. You asked for full discretion in dealing with the girl…and I granted it. I should not have rebuffed you for the course of action you took, so in light of that, I have decided that I will approve of this union,” Voldemort declared.

 

Rodolphus looked surprised. “You approve? She is a mudblood, and she killed Bellatrix…”

 

“From the rumors I have heard, she is not really a mudblood at all, is she?” He chuckled. “Trading one Black for another, I had not imagined it possible. I suppose your worthless cousin was good for something after all, dear Narcissa.” The Dark Lord seemed in a good mood.

 

“It appears that way, yes,” Narcissa said with a tight smile, treading the line carefully.

 

“I remember that the bonding must take place at the Chateau, in private, but Narcissa will host a grand reception, fitting for the new Lady Lestrange. I trust you will co-ordinate the details with her,” he said.

 

“Thank you, my Lord.” Rodolphus forced himself to smile and nod respectfully. “That is most generous of you.”

 

“It is indeed. Now I must go, I have something to attend to.” The Dark Lord rose and swept out of the dining room.

 

Rodolphus took a deep breath and resisted the urge to drive his fist into the table. Fuck. He looked at Narcissa and Lucius, seeing the worry on their faces plainly enough.

 

“So, when is the happy event?” Lucius asked, pouring drinks for the three of them.

 

“Yule, I thought it best to get it done as quickly as possible.” He leaned back in the chair, trying to wrestle his fears under control.

 

“The girl isn’t a Black,” Lucius said quietly, speaking the truth no one wanted to admit.

 

“She is, and she isn’t.” Narcissa said quietly. “Sirius has claimed her as his blood, how or why I do not know, but he has. In the family grimoire she is listed as his ward, and that entry will appear in any family book that lists Sirius as a blood relative. Usually such a thing is done only to recognize an illegitimate child. Given my cousin’s well known womanizing years, it’s not impossible that he has a whole herd of unclaimed offspring scampering about Britain.” Narcissa all but collapsed into a chair as well. “With that hair, and what we’ve heard of her temper…it’s not completely out of the question.”

 

“She’s protected by your bonding agreement?” Lucius asked carefully, remembering the fiasco that had been Rodolphus’ first marriage. 

 

“Yes, they are very _traditional_ bonds,” Rodolphus said. “The only way he will have her, is if he kills me first.”

 

Narcissa nodded quietly. “Then I suppose I had better start planning a wedding reception.” She stood and left the room, her drink untouched where she’d left it.

 

“You really think he’ll kill you?” Lucius asked.

 

“Not right away, but she does look somewhat like Bella did at that age…I pray he misses the resemblance.” Rodolphus shook his head, concern twisting in his gut. He wanted to keep Hermione as far away from the Dark Lord as possible, but now that seemed unlikely. “You seem to have come around to the idea.”

 

“Cissy may have had a few words with me.” He chuckled wryly and took a long sip of his drink. “I forget sometimes what your devotion to our Lord has cost you, and your family. A man has a right to ensure the continuation of his bloodline, and I can’t deny her merits…they’re well known. Controlling Potter’s strategist is a master stroke as well, particularly if what my son tells me is true and she’s concealing it from Potter and the Order. You have the perfect piece to strike at the boy at the opportune moment, and he’ll never see her coming.” Lucius inclined his head. “My congratulations on your foresight.”

 

Rodolphus just smiled and sipped his drink, he’d wondered how long it would take Lucius to rationalize his choice of the girl beyond her sullied lineage. It was a smart tactical move, and one he could defend. He didn’t quite know why Narcissa was helping him, her fringe obligations to Hermione wouldn’t reach this far, but for some reason she was easing the girl’s way as much as she could without it being obvious. She had a play of some kind, and he’d need to ferret it out soon.

 

“Besides, I doubt having a young, pretty witch in your bed is going to be a hardship for you.” Lucius winked.

 

“Not in the slightest.” Rodolphus finished his drink. “I should say goodnight, I have some things to attend to back at the Chateau. Tell your lovely wife that she can contact me with any pertinent details for the reception.”

 

“Of course.” Lucius said. “Goodnight.” The Lord of Malfoy Manor didn’t get up, but merely poured himself another drink, looking altogether too amused by the turn of events tonight.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione’s head was splitting this morning, but she did her best to smile and nod as Harry and Ron chattered on about their plans for Hogsmeade today. Her session with Professor Snape last night had been the hardest one yet; he’d torn her rudimentary shields to shreds and she swore that it felt like her brain had been literally hemorrhaging out of her eyes at one point. She’d felt worse than useless, but he’d actually complimented her on making solid progress. Apparently flopping around on the floor like a dying fish was a good sign, who knew?

 

“Hermione? Hello, earth to Hermione?” Harry bumped her shoulder with his, looking concerned. “Are you ok?”

 

“Sorry Harry, I was just thinking about that potions essay I have due.” She rolled her eyes at the exclamations of exasperation that fell from Ron and Harry’s lips. “So, Honeydukes first?”

 

“You didn’t hear a word we said, did you?” Harry smirked at little.

 

“No, not really.” She coloured in embarrassment.

 

“Ron and I are hitting the Quidditch shop first, and we figured you’d be swinging by Tomes and Scrolls, and then we could meet up for lunch at the Three Broomsticks,” Harry said.

 

“That actually sounds perfect. I wanted to look for a little bit of light reading,” she said, thinking the peace and quiet of the bookshop would be a welcome reprieve for her poor abused brain. She had dueling practice tomorrow and that would be a physically punishing session. Harry was having private lessons with the Headmaster this term, and something about them made her worried. She didn’t trust the Headmaster, not after this summer, and she was honestly afraid of what he was filling Harry’s head with.

 

“Hermione, your version of light reading frightens most people.” Harry smirked at her.

 

“Honestly…boys. I’m just going to grab my coat, and I’ll meet you in the Entrance Hall,” she said and headed up to the dorms. On top of the stress from classes and her private lessons with Professor Snape, there was the issue of Rodolphus. She’d been ignoring his letters for weeks now, and she knew that eventually she was going to have to address it. It wasn’t his fault, and there was no way he could know why she’d stopped writing him, but every time she picked up a quill to write to him, flashes of Benjy’s flayed body swam up in front of her eyes.

 

At least her Occlumency lessons had allowed her to start partitioning it from her dreams, but she still hated that Professor Snape had shown it to her. It was so hard to reconcile the man she’d spent that week with to the man she’d seen carving into another human being. A rush of bile surged up her throat, and she stopped in the corridor to let it pass. She leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes for a moment, feeling tears welling up in them. He was a monster; it didn’t matter how good it felt to curl against him, or how much she liked his smile. That was just one memory. How many more people had he torture and killed? Did she even want to know? No, she didn’t even really want to know about this one horrific act.

 

She wiped her tears away and continued up to Gryffindor Tower. In her room, she hesitated between her well-worn jean jacket and the beautiful black coat that Rodolphus had sent her. She stroked her fingertips along the material and bit her lip, it would look strange if she didn’t wear it. Lavender and Pavarti had been drooling over it since her birthday, talking about lucky she was. She pulled it on and took a moment to pull her hair back into a messy bun. It made her look older, more mature than the girls she was at school with. She grabbed her money pouch, and then slipped her wand into the pocket designed for it, then headed back down to meet the boys.

 

When she reached the Entrance Hall, there was no sign of the boys though and a quick look into the Great Hall revealed that they were clearly long gone.

 

“They left a while ago, with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.” Daphne Greengrass’ voice came from directly behind her.

 

Hermione spun and blinked. “Thanks, figures…” She shook her head in annoyance.

 

“We could walk together, if you like?” Daphne was wearing a stylish green cloak, pinned at her right shoulder with a pretty silver flower broach.

 

“I suppose so,” Hermione said, wondering what the Slytherin girl’s game was.

 

Daphne just smiled brilliantly and together they headed out of the castle. The sky was grey today, clouds piling up and seeming to threaten an early snow. The wind certainly felt bitter enough for it, and Hermione was suddenly very glad that she’d chosen the longer coat.

 

“So, is it true that you’re betrothed to Rodolphus Lestrange?” Daphne asked, once they were well away from the castle.

 

“Where did you hear that?” Hermione said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“I overheard Mira and Audra Yaxley discussing it. They thought they were being discreet.” She rolled her eyes.

 

Hermione bit her bottom lip and nodded. “It’s true, it’s an honour debt because I killed his wife,” she said very quietly.

 

Daphne nodded. “I figured that it would have to be something like that.” The pretty blonde replied quietly. “I was betrothed last summer as well, once I graduate I’ll be marrying Adrian Pucey,” she shared.

 

“Congratulations,” Hermione said. “Are you happy about it?”

 

“I’m not _unhappy_. He’s rather sweet in his own way and it’s a very good match politically for the family. The Puceys, like my family, have always been quite neutral so at least I don’t have to worry about him getting dragged into things. How are you managing?”

 

“I’m not.” She had no idea why she was talking so freely to Greengrass, but she just desperately needed someone to confide in. “I’m really not.”

 

Daphne reached over and touched her arm. “You do realize, given everything…no one could possibly expect you to be dealing with this well. Merlin, Granger. You killed someone this summer, you nearly died if the papers are to be believed, I think you’ve earned a breakdown or two.”

 

“I was doing ok…I was…but how do I reconcile the two parts of him? He’s a Death Eater…and yet he’s never hurt me, never even seemed like he wanted to.” Hermione felt her throat closing up in panic and knew this was not the time or the place for it, but she just couldn’t hold it together anymore.

 

“Come on.” Daphne wrapped an arm around her and walked with her away from the main streets of Hogsmeade off to a sheltered garden space, sitting them down on a stone bench.

 

Hermione just let herself be led away and once she was sitting down, her careful controls just burst and she started sobbing. The other girl was just silent, rubbing her back gently and being a calm presence at her side. She cried until her face hurt and she finally felt empty.

 

“Here, let me clean your face up a bit,” Daphne said softly and with a little wand work, the tears and puffiness were vanished. “Feel a bit better?” she asked.

 

“I’m sorry, I just…”

 

“Don’t be, sounds like you need a good cry.” Daphne waved the concern away. “Look Granger, we’re not friends, but that doesn’t mean I can’t understand what you’re facing. With everything going on, you must be just terrified. Do you even have someone to talk to?”

 

Hermione shook her head. “I can’t tell my friends; they’d never understand or accept that there’s no way out of this. I have to marry him, and it doesn’t matter who or what he is…it’s done.”

 

“If you ever need to talk, I do know how to keep a secret,” Daphne said quietly.

 

“Why would you want to help me?” she asked.

 

“Because one day you’ll be Lady Lestrange and carry a lot of clout. I can think of worse things than being on good terms with you.” Daphne winked at her.

 

Hermione let out a shakey laugh. “Ulterior motives?”

 

“They’re the best kind, because you can always trust someone working for their own self-interest,” Daphne said. “I help you now, and one day you might be able to help me. Seems fair enough.”

 

Hermione nodded and took a slow breath in, centering herself more. “I guess so. It’s all just so messed up.”

 

“No one seems to know what to do with you now, Granger. You’re possibly a half-blood Black, engaged to one of the Dark Lord’s favoured few, but you’re also Harry Potter’s best friend and very much a Gryffindor. Slytherins don’t like uncertainties, and after your trouncing of Pansy, everyone’s a little on edge. Nicely done by the way,” Daphne said.

 

“Why didn’t you help her? I had no idea you were there, you could have gotten the drop on me.” Hermione asked.

 

“Maybe I wanted to see how it would play out, and maybe I thought Pansy needed her ass kicked a little.” She shrugged. “My father always taught to never draw my wand on someone unless I was prepared to kill them. Strangely enough, I don’t want you dead. You’re way too interesting right now.” She winked.

 

“Good a reason as any, I guess,” Hermione said a little dubiously. “I should try and find the boys, but…thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome. Just try and give yourself a bit of a break. You have every right to fall apart, given what you’re facing. Don’t give yourself a hard time about it.” She stood and nodded. “We’ll talk later.”

 

“Ok, later,” she said, just staying put for a little longer to pull herself back together. ‘Falling apart in front of random Slytherins, yeah great job there Hermione,’ she mentally castigated herself. She stood and smoothed her coat down, preparing to head back out to the main drag of the village to try and track her friends down. A loud crack as someone apparated behind her, made Hermione jump. A hand shot out and grabbed her arm, dragging her back against a broad chest and a hand clamped down over her mouth before she could scream.

 

“I think it’s time we had a chat, Hermione.” Rodolphus’ voice was low and carried heat in it. Holding her tightly against his body, there was a squeezing sensation as he apparated them away.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Rodolphus apparated them directly to the townhouse in London. They needed to talk, and it was better to bring her somewhere secure for that conversation. He grunted as she elbowed him and spun out of his arms. He supposed he did deserve it, for grabbing her off the street like that, but it did little to improve his mood.

 

“What the hell was that?” Hermione backed away from him, breathing hard.

 

 “We need to talk, and we certainly couldn’t do what on the streets of Hogsmeade with all your little friends around,” he growled, unable to keep the anger out of his tone. “Do you want to tell me what is going on?”

 

Hermione looked away, letting out a breath she’d been holding and walking over to the window. “I…I didn’t know what to say.”

 

“Somehow I find that unlikely.” He walked over and touched her arm, confused as she flinched away from him violently. It was like cold water being thrown over him, and his anger evaporated. “Hermione, what’s happened? Just tell me, whatever it is I’ll try and make it right.” He could see tears welling up in her eyes and he felt at a complete loss.

 

“I saw what you did to Benjy Fenwick,” she whispered, meeting his eyes.

 

Rodolphus’ hand dropped away from her, and he backed off. “How did you *see* it?”

 

“Professor Snape showed me, said he needed me to understand what you’re capable of. What they’re all capable of.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, leaving glistening tracks on her skin. “I keep seeing it in my head, what you did and the things you said…” Her bottom lip quivered.

 

Sudden rage filled Rodolphus and he turned away from her, trying to resist the urge to destroy something. Preferably that bloody interfering git, Severus Snape. His magic roiled through the room, a hot wave of potential violence just barely contained.

 

“I’m sorry, I tried to write to tell you…but I just couldn’t.” Her voice broke a bit, the words clearly hard to force out.

 

Rodolphus took a deep breath and let it out slowly, mentally counting to ten to try and control his anger. He pulled his magic back, concentrating hard to swallow that much power back down. Finally under control again, he turned and offered her a hand. “It’s not your fault, I’m not upset with you…do you understand?” he asked her.

 

Hermione reached out hesitantly and placed her hand in his, as if afraid of him, and he mentally swore. ‘Back to square fucking one,’ he thought angrily and knew there was much to do in order to ease her back to him. “I told you once that I was not a good man, but what you need to understand is that I would never hurt you. It doesn’t matter how I treat anyone else; what matters is that I would sooner die than raise a hand to you, or allow anyone else to.” He gently squeezed her hand. “You have nothing to fear from me, and swear to you that is the truth.”

 

“But how could you do that?” she asked softly, tears still falling.

 

“It’s probably a good thing you don’t understand.” Rodolphus gave her a wry smile and brought her over to the couch. With careful hands, he unbuttoned her coat and helped her out of it, urging her to sit down. “Dily, can we have some tea please?” he called and sat down beside her. “The Dark Lord often tasked me with the interrogation of prisoners with sensitive information, because I was usually the best at getting it with the least amount of damage. Benjy Fenwick was the one time it didn’t go quite that smoothly. He and the Prewett Brothers were involved with a raid on the home of Antonin Dolohov and his wife Anna. Fabian Prewett killed Anna, to be honest I don’t know if she attacked them first, or what exactly happened, but Anna was dead and Antonin was lost to a blind rage. He wanted both twins dead. Benjy knew where they were hiding, and so I got it from him. When he told me what I wanted to know, I killed him cleanly, if that’s any consolation.” He sighed.

 

“Not really…” she admitted quietly. “So you didn’t have a choice?”

 

“With most of them...no, it was just orders, but with Benjy…I wanted him to hurt. I knew Anna, she was a few years ahead of me in school. She was a Ravenclaw prefect, smart and kind. He was hiding the bastards that killed her, and I didn’t care what I had to do to make him talk. I hope you never have to experience doing something like that out of a need for revenge. I’ve done a lot of truly horrible things Hermione, I won’t lie to you about that. I don’t want to lie to you at all.” He wanted her to be his equal, his partner in all things…but if she’d rather be kept in the dark like Narcissa preferred, he would do that. “If you’d rather not know, I can hide it from you. I can take that horrible memory away, and you won’t have to see me like that. I wouldn’t blame you for wanting it out of your head, there are days I wish I could pull all the darkness out of mine too.” He reached over and traced his finger along a stray curl that had escaped her messy bun.

 

Hermione shook her head. “No, I’d rather know the truth and be hurt, than believe a pretty lie.”

 

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He carefully cupped her cheek in his palm, her skin warm and damp from her tears. “I’m sorry I’m not the man you wish I was.”

 

“Do you enjoy it?” she asked, looking down away from his face.

 

“Sometimes.” He saw that single word stab her like a blade. “And sometimes not. Any man that tells you he takes no joy in killing, is a liar. We’re all guilty of indulging in that dark bit of pleasure that comes from being stronger, smarter, and more powerful than our opponent. When they’re lying in the dirt instead of you, there is an amount of pleasure in that. If you’re asking if I find it sexually exciting to torture someone, then the answer is no. I don’t enjoy it in that way.” Damn Severus to the nine hells for necessitating this conversation. He was really not ready to discuss his own personal kinks and quirks with the very inexperienced girl.

 

“In what way do you enjoy torture?” she asked in morbid curiosity.

 

“An interrogation is a battle of wills, and an intricate puzzle. Everyone is different, and every person reacts to pain and fear in a completely unique way. What would break you, wouldn’t break your friend Potter, and vice versa. When you finally find that perfect combination, there is a dark sense of accomplishment in that.” He swallowed, watching her intensely. There was clear disgust on her face, but she’d asked the question and asked for truth. “What else do you want to know?”

 

Hermione just shook her head. “I don’t think I can handle any more answers today.” She sounded exhausted but reached over and took his hand again. “He showed me other things too…it wasn’t just you I was afraid of.”

 

He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, feeling the crisis pass for the moment. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Hermione. None of them will touch you, I swear it. Tell me you believe me.” He gripped her hand a little tighter.

 

“I believe you.” Her red-rimmed eyes met his, they were full of sorrow and pain, but at least the fear seemed to be gone.

 

“You’re mine, and I will do whatever is necessary in order to protect you.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. She was hesitant this time, and he knew that after seeing him ‘work’ it was impossible not to be. He slid his hand into her hair, deepening the kiss. He needed to make some claim on her now, to leave her with a better memory of him than the horrible things he’d done. When he felt the smallest bit of response to his kiss, he left her lips and began to feather kissed over her face, tasting the salt of her tears. Slowly, the tension began to leech from her body and he rested his forehead against hers. “Are you ok?”

 

“Not yet, but I will be.” she answered, not moving away from him. The tea service appeared on the table beside them, but she didn’t make a single move to help herself to some. He shifted back, dropping a kiss to her temple before making them both some tea. Dily had sent up a plate of chocolate biscuits with the tea and he put one on her saucer, imagining that she needed something sweet. She gave him a small smile as she took the tea cup.

 

“So, how are your classes going?” he asked, trying to get things back to the general realm of normal.

 

“So far it’s been challenging, but I’m doing well.” She took a sip of the tea.

 

“And your Occlumency lessons with Severus?” It was hard not to scowl as Rodolphus said the man’s name, but he’d reserve his anger for when he managed to see Snape face to face. He didn’t have the heart to tell her about the slightly altered plans for Yule; that would have to wait until she’d finished dealing with the tangle of emotions she was trying desperately to sort through.

 

“Professor Snape says I’m doing well, but so far it just feels like I’m failing around blindly,” she admitted.

 

“Occulmency is challenging, even for people who have a bit of natural ability, but I have every confidence that you’ll learn enough to protect yourself,” he said gently. Watching her, he was forced to remember that she was so very young, and with everything that had happened to her in the last five months, she had to be reeling somewhat. She needed him to be a steadying influence, and he would certainly try.

 

“I wish I was as confident of that.” She sighed a little. “My dueling is getting better though.”

 

“I take it Severus is continuing those lessons along with Occlumency then?” He was glad of that. She’d need all the skills for practical defence that she could get.

 

She nodded. “It’s a lot on top of my school work, but I know it’s probably more important.”

 

“It is.” Anything that helped keep her alive was important now, and he hoped desperately that he could get her through the wedding and reception in one piece. “I’m sorry this has been so difficult for you, and I have no idea Severus would take it upon himself to show you such things.”

 

Hermione nodded. “Something tells me that it’s just the beginning.” Her eyes dropped down to her cup, and Rodolphus could literally see the crushing weight of everything hit her again. He gently took the mostly empty tea cup from her lifted her hands up to his lips kissing her skin softly. Hermione closed her eyes and he drew her closer, cradling her against his chest. Soon, he’d need to return her to Hogsmeade, and hope that she hadn’t been missed, but for this brief moment he just wanted to have her in his arms.


	16. Knowledge Shared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Shorter update this week. Enjoy everyone!

**o.o.O.o.o**

 

“What’s he actually teaching you?” Hermione asked suddenly, looking up from the potion’s notes she’d been going over with Harry. They were tucked into a little corner of the Common Room, alone for the moment. Ron was busy playing Wizard’s chess against one of the younger students. The plucky fourth year seemed to have a real gift for the game, and Ron saw it as a challenge to try and beat him as often as possible.

 

“I’m not supposed to say. He made me promise not to tell anyone, at least not yet.” Harry looked pretty uncomfortable, shifting a little in his seat. “I just don’t see how any of it is going to help me beat Voldemort.” He sighed after a moment and looked up, meeting his best friend’s eyes. “I thought I’d be getting dueling lessons or something like that, but we just keep looking at these stupid memories,” he whispered, sharing the information with her. 

 

“Memories, of what?” She frowned, her own experiences with a pensieve of late making her wary.

 

“They’re about him. Voldemort.” Harry shifted closer, clearly having wanted to share this with her for a while now. “But they’re strange, it’s almost like he wants me to feel sorry for him or something.”

 

Hermione tilted her head to the side. “What was he like?” she asked.

 

“Kind of like me, actually…” Harry looked down. “He grew up in an orphanage, and it looked pretty rough. I mean he wasn’t a nice kid or anything, but I can sort of understand why he went the way he did. I don’t want to feel sorry for him.” He said firmly, hand clenching tight around the quill in his hand to the point that it broke. “I don’t want to know about his shitty childhood or his messed up family; I just want to know how I’m supposed to fight him.” There was a thread of real desperation in his voice, an unspoken plea for someone to just help him.

 

Hermione shifted and hugged him tightly. “We’ll find a way, you know we always do,” she promised him. She whispered her words into his ear, knowing that in Hogwarts, the walls sometimes had ears.

 

“I hope so, because I just have this horrible feeling in my gut like somehow I’m not supposed to win.” The last bit was whispered, as if he was afraid of admitting that to anyone other than himself.

 

“I’m not going to let you lose. Do you hear me Harry James Potter?” She tightened her grip on him, knowing that somehow she HAD to get him through this. A tiny tickle at the back of her mind made her wonder if Harry was right though, did Dumbledore want Harry to lose? Was there some hidden motive that necessitated Harry’s death? A year ago she’d have dismissed the possibility, but recent events had illustrated to her just how disposable they all were to the Headmaster. “We will figure this out together, I promise.”

 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Harry answered back. “Come on, let’s go somewhere quiet and I’ll tell you everything,” he said, sneaking a look over at Ron. Seeing that their friend was completely absorbed in the game, they snuck out of the Common Room.

 

What Hermione learned during the conversation that followed, left her more confused rather than less. It made no sense. The prophecy had been very clear that they were destined to do battle and one would have to kill the other. Wasting Harry’s precious time with watching memories of his enemy’s past seemed highly counter-productive, at least on the face of it. They didn’t get a chance to really discuss everything, as Ron found them part way through their conversation. By silent agreement, neither of them shared the true nature of their discussion. Ron was a good friend, but not the best at keeping secrets.

 

Hermione claimed she had patrol and left the boys to return to the Common Room without her. As she walked the corridors, her mind spun around everything Harry had shared. There was value in knowing your enemy she supposed, but it was the lack of any actual combat lessons that tweaked at her mind. Her lessons with Professor Snape were brutal, and even he admitted he was only preparing her for a side-line type role in the coming war. Harry was supposed to be on the front lines and from what she could see, he was horribly unprepared. It felt too contrived, and it had to be by design.

 

“A little late to be wandering the corridors isn’t it, Miss Granger?” Severus asked, stepping out of the shadows.

 

“I had something on my mind, Professor. I thought patrolling would help me sort everything out before bed,” she admitted freely, nodding respectfully to him. She had not told him about her visit with Rodolphus during the Hogsmeade weekend yet, but their next Occlumency lesson wasn’t until the end of the week.

 

“Walk with me, and perhaps we can work through the issue?” he suggested, and at her nod he cast his usual anti-eavesdropping charm. Hermione had figured out the wand movement, but nothing else yet.

 

“Harry confided in me about his lessons with the Headmaster, and I’m…concerned.” She flicked her eyes over to him. Despite his actions with the memories, she did trust him and believed that he wanted to protect all of them, even from the Headmaster if it came down to it.

 

“The Headmaster has not shared the nature of Potter’s lessons with me, only assured me that I need worry about supplying any tutelage of my own.” Severus raised an eyebrow. “Am I to assume that he is not receiving training you’d deem useful?”

 

“He’s not receiving any training at all,” Hermione confirmed. “He’s simply showing him memories in a pensieve and discussing them. I…I don’t think he wants Harry to survive,” she added hesitantly, understanding what she was saying. Her professor stopped dead and looked at her intensely. “I know how it sounds, but if the prophecy is right and one has to kill the other, why isn’t he training Harry to face You-Know-Who in combat? Why just these memories and pointless conversations?”

 

“You know the full prophecy?” Severus’ eyebrows rose even higher. “Come with me,” he said and started off towards the dungeons at speed, robes billowing behind him.

 

Hermione followed, almost having to break into a run at points to keep pace. He took her through a series of passages she’d never seen before. They exited into a section of the Dungeons that was unfamiliar to her, and he pressed his hand to a plain section of wall. A door appeared and he opened it, motioning for her to enter. Passing over the threshold, she realized these were his private quarters. It had the feel of being well-lived in, with bookshelves covering the walls and the furniture looking inviting. She looked up at the portrait over the fireplace, where an old wizard was sputtering in obvious indignation.

 

“This is most improper, Severus!”

 

“Spare me, Phineas. You know I would never be improper with a student and this discussion cannot leave the room. You are well aware that only in here are my conversations private from the Headmaster.” Severus fixed the portrait with a look. “I swear on my magic, nothing untoward will occur.”

 

The portrait huffed. “I will hold you to that.”

 

“I expected nothing less.” Severus rolled his eyes and sat down in a chair across from Hermione. “Tell me what the actual wording of the Prophecy is.”

 

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...." Hermione recited it from memory.

 

Severus stood and began to pace, mind whirling at speed. “And none of the lessons Potter has been receiving are to prepare him for that conflict?” He asked as he paced back and forth.

 

“No, nothing since we returned from Headquarters.” She confirmed, not liking the serious lines on his face. It confirmed her fears that her best friend was being set up as some kind of sacrificial lamb.

 

“Stay right there.” He said abruptly and left the room, disappearing through another door.

 

Hermione didn’t move, but let her eyes travel over the room. She realized how silly it had been to assume the comfortable sitting room behind his office had been his private quarters. The fire crackled cheerfully in the grate, and she found herself wondering what else she didn’t know about her Professor. She imagine that it was likely a lot. In a few moments her Professor returned, a neat stack of books in his hands.

 

“These books are priceless, Miss Granger.” He set them down on the coffee table between them. “While they are the common texts from my school years, within their pages are spells and tidbits of knowledge that may one day save your life or someone else’s. I would not trust these books in the hands of just anyone, and I will enchant them to reveal their secrets only to you. I do, however, give you permission to teach Potter anything you feel he can use from within their pages. Use your discretion, as there are things in them that Potter should never dabble in, but I am willing to trust you to know where the line is. The spells in the margin are all my own creations, and I have never shared them with anyone before today. Use them wisely, and keep the books for as long as you need them.”

 

Hermione blinked, unable to keep her eyes from dropping to look at the titles. “You were creating your own spells in fifth year?”

 

“I created my first spell in second year, it just wasn’t terribly interesting and not worth writing down.” His lips quirked. “You may also not share any of the potions insights with Mr. Potter. Trust me, I’ll know if you do.”

 

“Yes Sir.” She nodded. “I’ll take very good care of them.”

 

Severus nodded and cast a non-verbal spell, before speaking to her. “Place your hand on the books.”

 

Hermione reached out and placed her palm on the top book, and a golden glow surrounded them.

 

“To anyone else they will appear to be very dry, arithmancy texts,” he said. “Make use of the Room of Requirement for your practices, and keep it quiet. The less others know about this, the better.”

 

Hermione picked up the books and nodded, understanding his meaning. “Thank you, Professor.”

 

“I’ll escort you back to the more familiar areas of the dungeons.” He stood and motioned for her to walk ahead of him out of his quarters.

 

The portrait over the fireplace was still giving her a hard look, and Hermione had no desire to remain any longer than she needed to. Hermione hugged the books to her chest and together they walked through the empty halls. He left her only with a curt nod. Moving quickly, Hermione headed back to Gryffindor Tower. The stack of books seemed innocuous, but something told her that this gift would be invaluable in the days to come.    

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Rodolphus filtered out of the meeting with everyone else, grateful that yet another night had passed without him earning their Lord’s ire. He fell into step behind Snape, all of the anger he’d buried over the last few weeks boiling up as he stared at the back of his head. It was time to address his grievances with the dour Potions Master.

 

“Snape, a word,” he said quietly, drawing Severus into one of the side rooms off Malfoy Manor’s main entryway. Narcissa was expecting to discuss wedding details with him tonight, but first he needed to get some things off his chest. Once the door was closed and a privacy ward erected, he turned and punched the younger wizard, hard. The impact of his knuckles with Snape’s jaw and the pain that lanced up his hand were eminently satisfying. Wands were wonderful, but there was something deeply satisfying about hauling off and nailing someone the muggle way.

 

Snape staggered back, but came up with his wand in hand, eyes narrowed furiously. “What was that for!” He touched the back of his free hand against his mouth, coming away with blood.

 

“Don’t EVER meddle in my relationship with Hermione again. I tolerate you spending time with her, because it is to her benefit, but if I ever need to spend hours holding her while she sobs again…I’ll be taking full account for it out of your hide.” Rodolphus dropped his masks, letting the other Death Eater see just what he’d woken up. “You went too far, Snape.”

 

Severus carefully lowered his wand, and gingerly touched his rapidly swelling jaw. “I suppose I deserved that,” he said quietly.

 

“And then some,” Rodolphus snapped. “She is due to marry me on Yule, and now the Dark Lord has decreed that Narcissa should host a grand wedding reception for her. Here. She needs to be able to stand at my side through all of that, simper and smile while pretending to be the perfect Death Eater wife. You’ve made that task next to impossible.”

 

Severus paled. “When did he decide this?”

 

“Very recently, after word got out about her possible familial relationship with Sirius Black.” Rodolphus walked over to a window. “His sudden fascination with her is dangerous, and I need to prepare her somehow. I’ll require your help to see her, so I can explain what is coming. Our meeting during the last Hogsmeade weekend was too brief to fully bridge the divide you created.” He looked over his shoulder at Snape, pleased at the nearly imperceptible flinch the man gave. “I’m sure you meant well…but you’ve made things harder for her than they needed to be. I don’t think you fully appreciate the strain she’s under, and just how close she is to the edge.”

 

“That was not my intention.” Snape sighed and came over to stand next to him. “I may be able to use the floo in my office to allow her to meet with you, but if I do it too often, it may rouse suspicion. I have a feeling the Headmaster has been monitoring the Floos for some time.”

 

Rodolphus nodded. “It will have to do. I cannot break this kind of news to her in a letter, she deserves more than that.” Feeling suddenly so very weary, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Her Occlumency must be able to pass muster by Yule. I hope that the Dark Lord will not appear at the reception, but I cannot help but fear that he will.”

 

“I will do what I can.” Severus promised. “What floo address do you wish her to use?”

 

“I will send word, once I make arrangements for something for us to meet. Somewhere that should not arouse suspicions in case the floo is being monitored.” His mind was already running through the possibilities. Perhaps Narcissa would have somewhere that would be suitable.

 

Severus nodded. “Very well, I will take my leave then. Unless you’d like to try and break my nose this time?” he said drily.

 

“Don’t tempt me, Snape,” Rodolphus said evenly. Once the other wizard left the room, he dispelled the wards and rubbed his right hand. He’d bruised his knuckles, and the swelling was somewhat concerning. He heard Narcissa’s heels on the floor and turned to see her enter the room.

 

“Brawling in my home like a school boy?” She arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him.

 

“Merely reinforcing boundaries.” His lips quirked into a smirk. “My apologies for such behaviour.”

 

“Accepted. I have everything laid out in my sitting room,” she said, waiting for him to join her.

 

Rodolphus found himself sitting in a very feminine sitting room, and looking through various booklets and material swatches. “Narcissa, I must admit this all seems quite…excessive,” he finally said. Never in his life had he felt so completely out of his depth.

 

“You poor man, you clearly have no idea what goes into a wedding.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “I suppose it’s your betrothed I should really be speaking to about all of this.”

 

“Severus is going to devise a way to spirit her out of Hogwarts so that I can prepare her for the alterations in plans. Can you think of a good place for those discussions?” Rodolphus asked.

 

Narcissa considered, tapping her perfectly-manicured nails against the table a moment. “We could use Primrose Cottage. It’s well warded, and I can join it directly to Severus’ floo at Hogwarts on the nights we need to use it. I can also get Mr. Tattings to bring her gown there for final alterations and such.” She started making plans.

 

“Why are you so eager to help her?” he asked, truly curious.

 

“She’s the same age as my son, Rodolphus,” Narcissa said quietly, meeting his eyes evenly. “She has no female family that can stand for her interests in this, or help guide her. You’re elevating her to being one of the wizarding elite, and she is worse than a babe in the woods. If I don’t help her, you know very well this world will eat her alive.”

 

Rodolphus merely nodded. “I won’t hurt her.” He tried to put her at ease.

 

“You may not mean to, but it could still happen. She needs more than just you to see her through all this. My son tells me she’s hidden it from her friends, and that she has a decided lack of female companionship in the first place. A witch needs a support network, and one not comprised entirely of men.” She shook her head. “And the intrepid Molly Weasley is hardly the best choice to prepare her for the realities of being a wife to a Lord. Nevermind a Lord who is also a Death Eater.”

 

He snorted. “Certainly not.” She had several very good points, and there was little in her expressions to indicate that she wasn’t being sincere. “She may be reluctant to trust you.”

 

“I’d think less of her if she wasn’t.” Narcissa laughed. “She is supposed to be rather clever.”

 

“Very well.” Rodolphus said.

 

“Now, let me see your hand, silly man.” She called for her house elf to bring her healer’s kit, and tended to the abrasions and healed the fractured metacarpals with a practiced pass of her wand. “Try not to break anything else for a few days while that mends.”    

 

“I will endeavor to avoid it.” He inclined his head. “I’ll give you the dates we can meet at the cottage, and we’ll work from that.”

 

“I’ll await your owl.” Narcissa said.

 

“Thank you, for having a care for her.” Rodolphus said, coming to his feet and pressing a polite kiss to her hand.

 

“Someone must.” Narcissa said simply. “Now, off you go.” She shooed him off, her polite mask firmly back in place.

 


	17. Adjusting Perceptions

o.o.O.o.o

 

‘Brilliant, just utterly brilliant,’ Hermione thought silently as she paged through the books that Snape had loaned to her. The spells themselves were ingenious, but the annotations littered throughout the defence and potions texts were just incredible. She’d never considered looking at things in that way, but he seemed able to tear even the simplest thing down to its component parts and rebuild it into something better. She could understand now why he loathed teaching, it was like tasking Einstein with teaching basic math to toddlers. 

 

He wrote liberally in the margins, not just about the texts, but general observations that were frankly quite funny…in a darkly sarcastic way. There were a few spells that literally raised the hair on the back of her neck, and one such curse was found in his Advanced Potion Making text. It had been marked as **_‘For Enemies’_** underlined with a vicious scrawl and she could literally feel the malice dripping off the page. Her Latin was good enough that she could tell what the curse was meant to do and it left her quite cold. In clear contrast, the counter for the curse was almost beautiful. It was also a general healing spell that could be used on any large open wounds.

 

The more she read in his books, the more she felt drawn to keep reading. She was even ignoring her regular course work in favour of delving into the secrets that her Potions Master had been willing to share with her. It was almost addictive. Harry and Ron had been giving her looks all week, making comments about her being unnaturally attracted to Arithmancy equations. She may have tested out Snape’s Langlock hex on them for that. The results were impressive. It would be particularly effective in a duel, forcing her opponent to rely purely on non-verbals, as well as being highly distracting. She’d have to try it out during her dueling session with the Professor on Sunday.

 

Friday was one of her favourite days of the week. She had Transfigurations in the morning with the boys, and then she had Ancient Runes in the afternoon while Harry and Ron were down doing Care of Magical Creatures. Professor McGonagall was focusing on non-verbal conjuring spells today. Hermione netted ten points for Gryffindor with her Avis spell. She managed to conjure fifteen identical blue song birds and they flitted playfully around her desk while she made notes from the text. She paused while the birds twittered in her ear and then she smirked. If she combined this spell with the Oppugno hex…the conjured birds would swarm and attack her opponent.

 

“That was a really evil smile,” Harry leaned over and whispered to her, one of the birds tugging at his messy hair.

“Just thinking of a tactical application for this spell.” She smirked at him.

 

“Bloody evil genius, I tell you…” Ron muttered.

 

“Language, Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall tutted as she passed them. “Since you seem to have ample time to chat, let’s see your Avis spell.” She gave him an expectant look over the top of her spectacles.

 

Ron’s cheeks turned a bit red, but he cleared his throat and performed the spell. He managed to conjure three canaries, though they were a little different. One was blue, one yellow, and the third was bright orange.  

 

“Make sure you have a clear picture in your head, Mr. Weasley. If you’re wishy-washy the resulting conjuration will always lack uniformity,” she said and continued down the line.

 

Hermione chuckled and cancelled her spell with a casual flick of her wand.

 

“I’d like two feet of parchment of the finer points of conjuration, detailing at least three separate spells that you think might be on your final examinations this year.” Their transfigurations mistress set the assignment, giving Hermione a small fond smile.

 

Hermione returned it and finished packing her things away. She’d just stepped into the hall when she spotted Professor Snape lingering at the far end of the corridor. He nodded towards one of the nearby empty classrooms and headed in that direction.

 

“You guys go on without me, I think I forgot something,” Hermione said to the boys, who’d been talking about Quidditch.

 

“Sure, see you in the Great Hall,” Harry said and continued with his strategy discussion, as Hermione headed towards the room she’d seen her professor disappear into. He was standing by the window when she entered.

 

“There will be a slight change of plans this evening,” Severus said, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

 

“What kind of change, sir?” Hermione frowned.

 

“You will be using my floo to visit with your…intended. It has been pointed out to me that my actions may have added an unnecessary burden onto you, in the face of an already stressful situation. For that, I do apologize,” Severus said, all the while looking out the window.

 

Hermione approached. “It may not have been the best way to warn me, but I do understand why you did it.”

 

“No you don’t, not really.” Severus sighed and turned his head to look at her, his dark eyes looking haunted.

 

“Then explain it to me,” Hermione asked, careful not to demand anything.

 

“I was your age when I fell in with the Dark Lord’s followers, and I went in blind. Academically I knew what they were, but knowing and understanding are two very different things. I didn’t want to see you broken down when it hit you, but what I failed to understand was that you’ve already had a hard dose of reality in this.” His face was the most open she’d ever seen it, and that worried her a little.

 

“The night my home was destroyed, we’d been there just a few hours before. Rodolphus was the one who realized there were no wards, nothing to warn us of an attack or even bring help. I cried myself to sleep that night, realizing that I wasn’t worth protecting…that I was disposable.” Her throat tightened a little. “The only person working to protect me and my parents, was an enemy.”

 

“I will endeavor to not underestimate you again and if you feel that I have crossed the line, I would like you to tell me. Is that acceptable?” he asked.

 

“Very.” With that apology, a lot of what she’d known about Professor Snape seemed to crumble into dust. “Where will I be going?” She moved the conversation to something less volatile. At the nearly imperceptible flicker of relief across his face, Hermione knew that she’d done the right thing.

 

“A safe house of sorts. I will give you the floo address when you arrive at my office this evening. Since you will be missing Occulmency tonight, I expect you to practice on your own. Dueling practice will take place as usual on Sunday,” Severus said. “You’d best hurry off to lunch, before you are missed.”

 

“Yes sir, and…thank you,” Hermione said before turning and leaving the classroom quickly. It was impossible to not wonder what had brought this about, since she doubted that Professor Snape would have come to this on his own. Something told her that Rodolphus had likely taken him to task and she felt a little bad about it. He had been trying to help, just not in the best way.

 

“Hey there Granger,” a voice came from her left as she reached the Entrance Hall.

 

Hermione mentally groaned and she gave him a tight smile. “McLaggen.”

 

“Come on, don’t be like that. You can call me Cormac.” He flashed her a brilliant smile.

 

“No, actually I can’t,” Hermione said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “I’m betrothed and it would be inappropriate.”

 

“I thought that was just a rumor.” He stopped mid-motion, clearing having been about to sling his arm over her shoulders.

 

Hermione pulled back her sleeve a little and let him see the bracelet. “Not a rumor.” She stared at him hard.

 

He swallowed and backed off. “Sorry, uh no hard feelings right.” He walked very quickly into the Great Hall.

 

“Meathead,” she muttered under her breath and went to sit with the boys.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione stepped out of the floo at the innocuously named ‘Primrose Cottage’, and she saw Rodolphus there waiting for her. He came forward and took her hand, pressing a kiss to it. She was still a little uneasy around him, but at least this time she didn’t flinch. It would take time to move past the things she’d seen, and the things he’d admitted to her. Professor Snape was right, there was a massive difference between knowing and understanding.

 

“How are you?” he asked, leading her into the sitting room.

 

“Doing better.” She leaned into him a little, letting some of her tension leech away. “Seeing you on the weekend helped.” They sat down on the sofa and she noticed a tightness around his eyes. Something was clearly on his mind.

 

“I’m glad.” He gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach all the way to his eyes. “There has been a…development that I need to share with you,” he began tentatively. “I’m loathe to put any more on your shoulders, but this unavoidable.”

 

“What’s happened?” she asked, a knot forming in her gut.

 

“Narcissa’s plan to pass you off as Sirius’ illegitimate daughter worked a little too well. The Dark Lord has given his blessing for our marriage.” He frowned a little.

 

“But that’s good, isn’t it?” Hermione frowned, unsure why he looked so completely undone.

 

“He’s ordered Narcissa to host a grand wedding reception for you,” Rodolphus said bluntly. “We cannot decline to attend.”

 

Hermione blinked at him, the realization of all that simple statement implied crashing into her. She’d have to face a whole host of Death Eaters, on her wedding day. “Will he be there?” she managed to ask, her throat suddenly very dry.

 

“He may be.” Rodolphus reached over and took her hands. “None of them will dare harm you, not that night.”

 

Hermione pulled her hands away from him and stood. “No…it’s too much, I can’t face them.” She started pacing. “How much more are you going to ask of me!” She snapped, panic gripping her chest.

 

“As much as he needs to,” a smooth female voice came from the doorway. Narcissa Malfoy stood there, looking at the girl impassively, her beautiful face unreadable. “He has no choice in the matter, and neither do you. Your life is now subject to the whims of the Dark Lord, just like the rest of us. It’s high time you started to get accustomed to the idea.”

 

Hermione stopped and just stared, her eyes flicking to Rodolphus.

 

“There is a great deal to be done to plan the wedding reception, and Narcissa insisted that you be consulted,” Rodolphus explained in the uncomfortable silence that had followed Narcissa’s reproach. “I am sorry, Hermione. I did not want to make that day any harder for you than I had to.”

 

“Sit down, and we’ll start going over things,” Narcissa said and settled into a comfortable chair across from the loveseat.

 

Hermione went and sat back down beside Rodolphus, feeling so horribly out of control and hating it. Tea appeared on the low table between them and Narcissa moved to prepare everyone’s cups for them. She let herself be distracted by watching the other woman perform the simple task, rather envious of Narcissa’s inherent grace. She accepted her cup with a murmured thank you, and sipped it. Surprised that somehow she’d known just how she preferred her tea.

 

“Now, I’ve received a sketch of your gown from Mr. Tattings, so I believe we can base the wedding theme around the colour of your dress quite easily.” Narcissa smiled, moving onto the wedding matters as if she had not stepped into an argument between Hermione and her betrothed. Together they decided that purple and white would be the colour scheme for the entire event, and Narcissa even went so far as to help her choose the flowers for the table centerpieces.

 

“The vervain flowers are beautiful,” Hermione said, giving her first real genuine smile of the night.

 

“A lovely choice, I’ll have some on hand to weave into your hair as well.” Narcissa allowed herself a small smile in return. “Perhaps with some white roses and purple calla lilies for your bouquet?”

 

Hermione nodded. She could tell that Rodolphus wasn’t terribly interested in what they were discussing, but he was trying to give input when asked. It was almost endearing.

 

“I believe this will be a good start for me to get things together. Will you remain the wedding night at the Manor, or return to the Chateau?” Narcissa asked, closing the wedding folder and looking to Rodolphus.

 

“We’ll be returning to the Chateau,” he said decisively. “And I don’t want Dolohov there.”

 

Narcissa nodded. “Understandable. I’ll make certain he knows that he is not welcome.” She stood and straightened her robes. “Good night, Miss Granger. I’m sure we’ll speak again soon.”

 

Hermione nodded. “Thank you for your assistance, Lady Malfoy,” she responded in turn. The elegant witch left and after the whoosh from the floo signaled her departure, Hermione slumped back against the loveseat.

 

“I’m sorry to have blindsided you with her tonight, but there is just too much to be done before Yule,” he apologized again.

 

Hermione sighed and looked over at him, realizing that he had not reached over and touched her since she’d roughly pulled away from him earlier. With a bit of a start, it occurred to her that he’d taken it as a rejection and was not wanting to force his presence on her. Initiating contact this time, she slipped her hand into his. “Don’t apologize. Narcissa is right, you don’t have any more choice than I do.”

 

“Still, it is far from ideal.” His fingers slipped between hers, a soft whispers of skin against skin.

 

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Hermione apologized softly. “I just don’t know how I’m going to do this.”

 

Rodolphus simply shifted to pull her closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. His lips brushed her temple. “I will get you through this, but you’re going to need to do exactly as I say at the reception. There are too many rules and subtleties to observe for me to teach them all to you in a handful of weeks. Follow my lead, and let me guide you.”

 

Hermione nodded and turned a little, burying her face against his chest. It was staggering, the weight of everything, and it just kept getting piled higher on top of her. Sometimes, it felt like he was the only thing keeping her standing upright. She knew that Sirius and Professor Snape were there to help her, but Sirius wasn’t here and she couldn’t imagine going to the Professor for a hug. This was the kind of thing she’d normally turn to Harry and Ron for, but she was still too frightened to even contemplate telling them. Her hand came up to rest against his chest, just anchoring herself in the feel of him.

 

“Everything will be all right, no matter how bleak it seems right now. No matter what happens, I will take care of you, Hermione. I always keep my promises.” His voice was soothing, and helped to calm her.

 

“I want to believe you.” She spoke against his chest, not wanting to move from her comfortable position.

 

“Then allow yourself to. There is no harm in taking whatever comfort you can right now.” His right hand stroked down her back. “Whatever you need from me, just ask.”

 

“What will happen at the ceremony?” she asked. There were a myriad of different bonding rituals, and the books she’d read stated that most families had very specific rituals.

 

“At the Chateau, there is an ancient ritual circle. Rabastan will perform the ceremony and cast the marriage bonds. Then we will both add our blood to the ward stone. It’s a simple ritual, but powerful. Since it is a private ceremony, if you wish to have someone there for you, we can arrange it,” he offered carefully.

 

“Can my parents be there?” she asked, biting her lip anxiously.

 

“The anti-muggle wards on the Chateau are…extensive. I would not wish them to come to harm,” he said with clear regret.

 

“What about Sirius?” She tried to hide her clear disappointment.

 

“If he can agree to a truce for the night, he will be welcome.” Rodolphus gave her a small smile. “Are there any of your girl friends that you’d wish to stand up with you?” he asked.

 

“I don’t really have many ‘girlfriends’,” she admitted a little bashfully. “Harry and Ron were actually my first real friends…ever.” She didn’t often talk about her life before Hogwarts, not wanting to admit just how lonely it had been. “I don’t get on well with Lavender and Pavarti, they’re my dorm mates. Ginny’s ok, but I can’t tell her about this…”

 

“Just think on it, there’s time yet,” he said and kissed her cheek. “Now, I should send you back to Hogwarts, before you Potions Master comes through the floo looking for you.” He chuckled.

 

“He probably will too.” She couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought of Professor Snape running through the floo certain she was in trouble. Reluctantly, she moved back out of Rod’s arms and ran a hand through her hair. “Will I get to see you again before Yule?”

 

“I will try, but it is likely your meetings here will be predominantly with Narcissa. The Dark Lord has some things that he’s asked me to take care of, and they will be time consuming. Likely by design.” He rolled his eyes a little.

 

“Ok.” She stood and took a deep breath to settle everything back where it needed to be. He rose from the love seat as well and walked her back to the floo. She grabbed a pinch of floo powder and paused, looking up at him. “Goodnight, Rodolphus.”

 

“Goodnight, Hermione. Sleep well.” He leaned down and brushed a soft kiss across her lips.

 

Hermione blushed and moved back, quickly leaving through the floo. She stepped through and spotted her professor sitting at his desk, marking essays. “Thank you, for letting me use your floo.” She was a little mortified that he could see the blush on her cheeks.

 

“You are quite welcome, Miss Granger. Unless you’d like me to take points, you’d best hurry off to Gryffindor Tower.” He smirked a little at her over the top of the essay he was eviscerating.

 

“Yes, sir.” She nodded. “Goodnight.”

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione countered Snape’s levicorpus and as she was falling, quickly cast her new attack. Her avis spell conjured a dozen black starlings and opuggno sent them flying at her Potions Master. While he was momentarily distracted by the feathery projectiles, she cast a smokescreen spell and then disillusioned herself. Quickly, she moved to a far corner as he started stalking through the empty classroom. Her heart was pounding frantically against her ribcage, but she forced herself to remain perfectly still. The differences between Severus and Sirius’ styles were tangible and she could see where Snape’s approach was far more feasible for her. Sirius was a typical Gryffindor and he approached duels head on, throwing himself into the fight wholeheartedly. Severus was the consummate Slytherin, he employed finesse and misdirection like an art form. He impressed on her that running away was nothing to be ashamed of, as long as it kept her skin intact. Most of the Dark Lord’s followers had a good twenty years of experience on her, so trying to stand toe to toe with them would be akin to suicide.

 

“Well done, Miss Granger. I do believe, for the first time, you’ve been successful in evading capture. You may come out now.” Severus tucked his wand into his robes, and grinned as she revealed herself.

 

“I wasn’t sure the smokescreen would work,” she said.

 

“The birds trying to gouge out my eyes were suitably distracting.” He gave her a wry smile. “Very nicely done. Keep that attack in mind and think of some more inventive spell combinations you can employ quickly and easily. I want to see something new next time.”

 

Hermione nodded, accepting the praise he’d offered and tried very hard not to beam like he’d awarded her a hundred points. “Sir…can I ask you something?” She sat down on one of the chairs.

 

“Of course.” He inclined his head, as close as he’d get to inviting her questions.

 

“I was talking with Daphne Greengrass and she mentioned that her family was neutral. What does that mean exactly?” She couldn’t imagine Voldemort allowing someone to opt out of the conflict. He struck her as more of a ‘you’re either with me or against me’ type of person.

 

“That requires something of a history lesson,” he began and took a seat as well. “During the Dark Lord’s initial rise to power, certain families declared themselves neutral. They swore oaths to neither help, nor hinder either side. They were all old families and as such it was a way to ensure their survival by not getting involved. They act as negotiators or arbiters where there are disputes that need settling, and occasionally a way to safely pass information from one side to the other anonymously,” he explained. “Even after the Dark Lord fell, they seemed to maintain their independent status. After his return, notices were sent to those few families, reaffirming the initial agreements.”

 

“It just seems contrary to what I’ve been told about You-Know-Who.” She frowned.

 

“Your world view has been shaped by the people that won the war, Miss Granger. Can you think of no reason why they’d want to portray a defeated enemy as a senseless, sadistic murderer?” He challenged her.

 

“History is written by the victors…” she mused, still frowning.

 

“Only a fool would fight a war against all comers. Ensuring there is a segment of the community that will stay out of any conflict is just sound tactics. Particularly if those elements have wealth, influence, and resources. The Dark Lord was many things during his initial rise to prominence, but foolish was not one of them,” Severus said, needing her to understand that. “While he is brutal, sadistic, and capricious…never forget that he is also incredibly intelligent and powerful. He would never have garnered such a following if he was not.”

 

“You’re right, it would be short sighted to marginalize him.” Hermione tried to take it all in, working it through in her mind.

 

“And deadly.” He stood. “Cultivating a friendship, even a casual one, with Miss Greengrass would be wise. You never know when you may have need of her contacts and resources, now or in the future. No matter what comes in this war or after, politics are now a reality of your life. You do not have the luxury of ignoring them. I think that concludes our lesson today.”

 

Hermione got up from her seat. “Yes, sir.” She inclined her head respectfully. “I’ll see you in class.” She gathered her book bag and headed off, a lot on her mind now to consider. The knowledge that she’d need to face a horde of Death Eaters and even possibly Voldemort himself was frightening, but if she approached this logically it was possible she could pull it off. Making Voldemort into a faceless monster wouldn’t help her, it would only freeze her like a deer caught in the headlights. She needed to see him as a person, an evil and extremely dangerous one for sure, but ultimately a person. After all, a person could be beaten, and even the smartest wizard could be outmanoeuvered. 


	18. Not Broken

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione was standing on a raised platform, wearing her wedding dress as Mr. Tatting began the final alterations. Narcissa Malfoy was sitting in a chair across from her, going over the guest list and giving her information about each potential attendee. To her surprise it wasn’t just Death Eaters, there were people from neutral families, even some Ministry people…though clearly not people that would report the wanted men that would be in attendance. In general it just disheartened her a little more about the apparent corruption in the Ministry. She hadn’t commented much, just keeping still so that the tailor could finish his work. Finally he stepped back and smiled.

 

“Lady Malfoy? What do you think?” he asked, looking over to the older woman.

 

Narcissa stood and walked around Hermione’s form, blue eyes going over everything critically. “It’s exquisite, exactly right for the occasion. Thank you again for agreeing to work under such…unsual conditions,” she said.

 

“It’s no trouble at all, the Lestranges have been clients of ours for generations.” He waived off her apology. “If you would like to get changed Miss Granger, I will take it back to the store and make certain it is utterly perfect for the day.”

 

Hermione nodded and went behind the screen that had been set up to the side for her. She hung it up, and got redressed into her own clothing before coming back out. She handed the gown over to Mr. Tattings and smiled at him.

 

“Thank you again, it’s exactly what I wanted,” Hermione said, glad that at least one thing about her wedding was what she wanted.

 

“You are most welcome, and I look forward to serving you in the future.” He gave a polite half-bow and headed to the door to disapparate.

 

“You chose very well for yourself. Not many young witches have such a refined taste,” Narcissa complimented her, motioning for Hermione to sit down.

 

“How can you even invite these people, Rodolphus is a wanted fugitive, someone will surely report it?” Hermione finally voiced what had been running through her head.

 

“You underestimate the silence that fear purchases, Miss Granger. No one would dare, because every person on this list is very aware that the Dark Lord is indeed back, despite the current official stance of our Minister. They will come, smile, and try to curry favour in the event that your friend Mr. Potter should fail. Others might choose to come out of pure curiosity. You are going to be something of an oddity after all, and they’ll want to see if Rodolphus has broken you yet,” Narcissa said giving her some cold facts. “Has he?”

 

“I am not broken.” Hermione’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Then stop acting like you are. My son wrote to me of a witch that was bold as brass, and all I’ve seen is a silent, morose, little girl clinging to the man who derailed her life.” Narcissa challenged her then.

 

“That’s not fair! You have no idea what I’ve been dealing with.” Hermione fired right back, anger filling her up.

 

“Life isn’t fair, Miss Granger. By now, I’d have thought you’d realize that.” Naricssa looked completely unmoved. “It doesn’t matter what’s happening around you or to you, all that matters is how you deal with it. Clearly, bottling everything up inside is not the right strategy for you. You aren’t some pampered pureblood girl who’s been raised to handle this kind of thing. Don’t hide your pain and your fears, wear them like diamonds around your neck.”

 

“I don’t know how,” she admitted, hating that someone like Narcissa Malfoy was able to rip her to pieces so effortlessly.

 

“Don’t hide from the truth, dare others to question you or judge you. Only then can you know who your friends are, and who only pretends,” Narcissa advised. “When the news breaks, don’t deny anything. Own your new position, your new name. Make damn sure everyone remembers that you are the witch that killed Bellatrix Lestrange, a witch that terrified old men into tremors and made new Aurors wet themselves. Stop hiding, stop running, and for the love of Merlin, stop weeping.”

 

Hermione blinked, taken aback by Narcissa’s harsh words.

 

“Death Eaters are like sharks, my dear. If they scent blood, they’ll tear you to pieces and Rodolphus along with you. Master your emotions, before they enslave you. You’re young, far too young to be playing these games, but we do not always get the luxury of choosing the challenges that come to us. Our only choice is how we face them, on our feet or on our knees.” Narcissa stood. “I think we’re done for tonight. I’ll send word with Draco about the date of our next appointment.”

 

Hermione stood and took a steadying breath. “Do you really think I’m weak?”

 

“I think you’re in free fall, and we won’t know what you really are until you hit the bottom.” Narcissa shrugged elegantly. “It doesn’t matter what I think, the only thing that matters is what you know about yourself.”

 

“Thank you.” She said quietly after taking a moment to process everything.  

 

Narcissa chuckled. “Don’t thank me, I’m not doing you any favours. I’m playing my own angles, just like everyone else. It would be a fatal mistake to think that everyone that offers you aid is a friend, and worthy of trust.” The elegant witch just gathered her papers.

 

“Goodnight then,” Hermione said, feeling very conflicted as she left Primrose cottage.

 

Professor Snape was engrossed in marking and just gave her a quick nod as she left to return to Gryffindor Tower. Her feet, however, took her up to the Astronomy Tower instead. Was Narcissa right? Had Rod broken her? She leaned on the stone wall, and looked out over the darkened grounds of the castle, the wind buffeting her. It was cold but she didn’t bother with a warming charm, the freezing November air clearing her head.

 

Because everything had been happening so quickly, she hadn’t really had time to deal with nearly dying in the Department of Mysteries. Everything with Rodolphus had hit her right after that, and the week they’d spent together everything had just been going so fast. Logically she knew the strange bond she felt with him was because they’d come together when she’d been emotionally vulnerable. The after effects of joining their magic to protect her parents had also deepened that feeling of connection. She could still feel the shadows of his magic inside her, and wondered if he still felt hers.

 

“Hermione?” A voice came from behind her and she turned.

 

“Neville?” She blinked.

 

“I saw you on Harry’s map, while he was watching Malfoy up in the dorm,” Neville explained and came to stand beside her, leaning his forearms against the wall as well. “I wanted to talk to you.”

 

“Of course, what is it?” she asked, shaking her head to clear away thoughts of Rodolphus.

 

“I know people think I’m stupid…” he started.

 

“You’re not stupid Neville, you just take a little longer to get your confidence sometimes,” Hermione interrupted him. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you’re stupid.” She hated it when people said that about him.

 

He gave her a small smile. “You’re a good friend, I wouldn’t have made it through OWLs without your help last year. I never got a chance to thank you for that. That wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about though.” Slowly, he reached over gently slid her sleeve back. “I know Lestrange gave that to you,” he whispered.

 

Hermione paled, her heart nearly stopping with those words.

 

“Everyone forgets that I know the rules as well as any other pureblood, and more than that I know you.” His hazel eyes were warm, and a little sad. “What you told Ron and Harry, it’s just not you. I know you, Hermione. You’d have used some crazy spell years beyond our ability and sent your family far away where even you couldn’t find them. You wouldn’t have traded yourself to some mysterious wizard, it’s just not in you. It would be too much like giving up.” He gave her a small smile. “How did he do it?”

 

Hermione closed her eyes and felt herself crumble a little. “When I went home, after I’d healed enough to leave Hogwarts, my parents weren’t there. I found a letter in their bedroom, he’d taken them to make sure that I wouldn’t run. I’m sorry Neville…I know what he did to your parents…I just…” She felt the words just tumble out, held in for too long.

 

He moved then and just pulled her into a tight hug. “Don’t…this isn’t your fault,” he whispered. “No matter what you’ve been telling yourself, none of this is your fault. They’re your parents, of course you’d do anything to keep them safe.”

 

Hermione held onto him tightly, unable to believe that he was still standing here. “The night they destroyed my home, I was safe at Rodolphus’. We’d been there just hours before and…Merlin Neville, there was nothing there. No wards, nothing to protect me. They sent me home, knowing that Voldemort wanted me dead, and there was nothing. If not for this stupid honour debt, I’d be dead now. They’d have tortured and killed me and my parents, and no one would have been able to stop it.” She had to tell him everything, more than anyone he deserved the truth. “He helped me hide them somewhere that no one will ever be able to find them and hurt them. He did it for me, so that they’d be safe…I know what he is, but it’s like he’s trying to be better than that.”

 

Neville just stroked her back, letting her get it out.

 

“Do you hate me?” she whispered.

 

“I could never hate you, you’re my friend.” He stroked her back, trying to reassure her. “It doesn’t matter who he is, you’re what matters to me.”

 

Hermione drew back and met his eyes, trying to see some sign that he blamed her and was just trying to hide it form her, but there was nothing. “But he…”

 

“I hate him and I swear that one day he’ll pay for what he did to my parents, but right now you need me to stand with you. So I will. No matter who else might be standing there.” His jaw was tight, but he didn’t break her gaze.

 

“You’re the truest Gryffindor I know,” Hermione came up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for being my friend.” She said softly into his ear, her heart now a little lighter.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Rodolphus turned his collar up against the cold, standing on the windswept shore just outside Tinworth. The sea was angry this evening, white caps topping the surf. The Dark Lord had been keeping him busy, but with small meaningless tasks that seemed designed only to exhaust and vex him. He didn’t much care for the thoughts circling his head about the reasons behind it. However, tonight his purpose was more personal. Hermione had asked very little of him, but she wanted Sirius there for her at the wedding. Since her parents couldn’t attend, he was the logical choice to represent her family. He had reached out and they’d agreed to meet here tonight. It was neutral territory for them both.

 

“Lestrange.” Sirius’ voice cut through the wind, the hostility clear.

 

“Black.” Rodolphus turned and inclined his head respectfully. “I’m glad you came.”

 

“I’m here for Hermione, not you.” Sirius came closer, grey eyes slightly narrowed. The man was clenching his jaw and looked primed for violence.

 

“Trust me, I’m well aware of that,” Rodolphus said and refused to rise to the bait. He deserved the hostility, and there was no denying it. “She wants you there, to stand for her family at the wedding. It’s going to be a private ceremony, so I don’t see why you shouldn’t be there.”

 

Sirius looked honestly surprised. “Me?”

 

“Your support has meant a lot to her during this, and if having your there is some comfort to her, I’m happy to arrange it,” Rod said.

 

“She told me you’ve been trying to make things easier for her, relatively speaking.” Sirius did say before letting his breath out harshly. “If she needs me, of course I’ll be there. I owe that girl my life, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to help her.”

 

“I’ll send you a port key for the day of the ceremony, but first we must swear to a truce for the wedding,” Rodolphus said and extended a hand. Sirius took it and without warning drove his fist into Rod’s cheek. Rod went down to his knees in the sand, his vision swimming for a moment. Rod spat blood onto the sand and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Finished?”

 

“You’re a bloody bastard Lestrange, forcing this on her. I know it’s too late to stop it now, but I swear if you let any harm come to her, I’ll tear you apart piece by piece,” Sirius promised. “But for the wedding, I swear to raise neither wand nor hand against you, or your kin. When we part, we will once again be governed by our own consciences.” Sirius offered the kneeling man a hand up.

 

Rod took it and nodded. “I’ll take it one further Black. From this day forward, I recognize you as Hermione’s surrogate family and swear to raise neither hand nor wand against you. If something happens to me, promise me you’ll take care of her,” Rod asked quietly.

 

“I would, even without your asking.” It was clear that Sirius was surprised by the request.

 

“I know.” Rod gingerly touched his jaw, it hurt like a son of a bitch.

 

“You shouldn’t have done this, she’s just a girl,” Sirius said looking out over the surf.

 

“I won’t apologize for what I did. You know as well as I do, that I had the right.” Rodolphus shook his head, refusing to admit he was in the wrong to Sirius Black of all men. “I never expected to actually care for her, but I do. She’s this bright light and I can’t help but be drawn to it.” He took a deep breath, feeling a kind of physical pain from revealing that much.

 

“Just make sure you don’t smother it,” Sirius snapped angrily.

 

“I’ll try not to and that’s all I can promise.” Rodolphus sighed, knowing that Sirius was right. She couldn’t help but he darkened by his touch, and it would be too easy to destroy what he found so alluring about her. He could still feel her magic inside him, from their duel casting. She was like the warmth of the sun, and he wanted to wrap that feeling around himself and chase the chill from his bones.

 

Sirius simply nodded. “Send the port key, and I’ll be there.” With that, he turned and disapparated with a crack.

 

Rod ran a hand through his hair, trying hard not to dwell on the worries that Sirius had given voice to. In a month’s time, Hermione would be his wife and her welfare would be his concern completely. He’d never felt this strange protectiveness towards Bellatrix, so its sudden appearance startled him. All his life, the only other person he’d felt even remotely this way about had been Rabastan. She’d somehow found her way through his walls and settled into his heart.

 

He apparated back to the Chateau, his magical stamina had been improving over the last months just as his physical health was restored. He no longer looked like a half-starved creature when he looked in the mirror. He and Rabastan had been working together to get back into form, pushing each other through the hardest challenges. He landed on the path leading up to the house and he pulled his cloak tighter against the wind that seemed even colder than it had outside the little wizarding village. The door opened under his touch, recognizing its master easily.

 

Rabastan was in the study, and he frowned when he saw his brother. “What the bloody hell happened to you?” He set his drink aside and walked over, reaching out and turning his brother’s face to the side. “Decide to take up prize fighting?”

 

“Black felt the need to express his displeasure about current circumstances. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was the girl’s father.” He snorted and sat down, calling for Dily to bring him some ice. “Not that I don’t deserve a good thrashing over it.”

 

“Still,” Rabastan said, worry in his eyes. “I told you not to meet him alone, he could have killed you. The girl might not be able to, but that doesn’t stop someone else from getting rid of you without her knowledge.”

 

“I’d expect that from Snape, but he needs us too much to move against me right now. In his eyes the girl is acceptable collateral damage. Black might be a hothead, but he still likes to think he’s an honourable Gryffindor. It was a calculated risk.” Rod shrugged and carefully put the ice to his jaw. No, if they were able to rid themselves of the Dark Lord once and for all, then Severus would come for him and see him either dead or in Azkaban. That much he was certain of, but he’d have to be ready for him when the time came.

 

“You’re just lucky he used his fists and not his wand,” Rabastan muttered and left the room for a moment, coming back with a jar of buise paste. “I thought I was the reckless one, mmm? Is your lovely bride to be that bad of an influence on you? Am I to expect further episodes of Gryffindor stupidity?”

 

Rodolphus gritted his teeth as his brother smoothed the paste over his jaw. “Maybe she is,” he shrugged. He let his head fall back against the chair and closed his eyes. “I don’t want to see her hurt, and we both know it’ll be impossible to hide this for long. Someone will let it slip, and by the time she returns to Hogwarts…it’ll be known.”

 

“They can’t go after her for it, the marriage is legal and done under a valid provision in the law. Your status as a fugitive means nothing and as your wife they cannot compel testimony from her. At worst they’ll watch her, and it will just make things a little harder for a while.” Rabastan shrugged.

 

“And what about what she’ll be facing at school? She still has a year and a half left. It’ll be hell for her.” He shook his head.

 

“Unavoidable, but hopefully we can keep it quiet as long as possible,” Rabastan said regretfully. “Once the old man is dead, people will have more important things to be worrying about than who’s shacking up with Death Eaters.”

 

“We can hope.” Rod shook his head, trying not to grimace at the phrasing his brother was using. He knew what they’d call her, a Death Eater Whore. He’d murder anyone he heard saying it, but there was only so much he could do to stop it. He frowned, mind working a mile a minute. “Rabastan? What’s the name of that reporter that writes all that trash in the Prophet?” he asked out of the blue.

 

“Skeeter, Rita Skeeter,” Rabastan replied. “Why?”

 

“No reason, just something that had been stuck in my head for a bit.” He shrugged and got up to pour himself a drink.

 

“Uh huh, no reason at all.” His brother snorted.

 

There might be a way to protect Hermione, without hiding the entire truth. How had his father once put it? Those that control the narrative hold the power. If he could persuade the Skeeter woman to tell a certain version of events, at least Hermione would not be painted in a scandalous light. He could bear the blame, and it would also be a lovely way to thumb his nose at Black too. A dark smile crossed his lips, as the plan began to take form. 


	19. Friends and Friendship

o.o.O.o.o

 

“Mind if I sit here?” Daphne asked and took a seat at Hermione’s study table. The Slytherin sixth year always looked so perfectly put together, and Hermione still found it strange that she was coming and spending time with her. It had become a thing over the last couple weeks, every Friday they’d sit together and talk over homework.

 

“No, please.” Hermione gave her a little smile. She’d been trying to work up the nerve to ask Daphne if she’d be there for her at the wedding. “I actually had something to ask you.”

 

“Of course, what did you need?” Daphne pulled her charms essay out of her bag.

 

“I…would you consider being there for my wedding?” She asked hesitantly.

 

Daphne looked surprised for a moment, before composing herself. “You want me to be your maid of honour?”

 

“Yes. My betrothed suggested I ask a friend, but you’re the only one who actually knows everything already.” Hermione said.

 

“I’d consider it an honour. Of course I’ll stand up with you at the wedding.” She gave her a warm smile and reached over to touch her hand. “I guess this means I need to find a way to give you some kind of hen night,” She winked at Hermione.

 

“I don’t see how, no one knows.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “The two of us hardly makes for a hen night.”

 

“All of Slytherin knows, and I’m sure we can get our hands on some…recreational libations. Just leave it to me.” Daphne looked positively excited at the prospect.

 

“I don’t know…”

 

“You only get married once, Granger. Live a little.” Daphne smiled warmly. “Just trust me ok?”

 

“Ok. But nothing crazy,” she warned her.

 

“Nothing crazy, witch’s honour.” The smile on her face told a somewhat different story, and Hermione wasn’t sure she wanted to know what she’d gotten herself into.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Rodolphus had looked into Skeeter’s background and discovered some ‘troubling’ things. Amongst them was a series of articles slandering his young bride to be when she’d been fifteen. Plain but Ambitious, indeed. Finding her home had been relatively simple, though the warding on her flat had been something of a challenge. He hadn’t seen warding this extensive since he’d tried to break into Rookwood’s home, after his death in the final weeks of the first war.

 

He had gotten through, and then reset them once he was safely ensconced inside. There were mounds of parchment scattered over every available surface, and even some pinned to the walls. Taking his time, Rodolphus perused quite a bit of her unfinished pieces, most of them completely horrid drivel, but there were some pieces that were positively brilliant. The woman had a gift for unearthing dirt, that much was certain.

 

A quick summoning charm brought a thick file to his hand, tagged simply ‘HJG’. Inside he found Hermione’s academic records from both muggle and magical sources, detailed copies of her OWL test results, along with sheets and sheets of written accounts from students and even teachers, some clearly obtained by impersonating Miss Granger’s parents. Rita’s vicious scrawl covered the margins of all the documents, clearly trying to find some angle, some salacious secret to parade out for all the world to see. There was something deeply personal at work here and he was at a loss to figure out what.

 

Rodolphus sat down on a chair in a corner of the living room of Rita’s flat and waited, cloaked in the shadows that fell over the room as afternoon gave way to night. It was nearing midnight, when the door opened and the witch in question came into the room. She kicked off her heels and started unbuttoning her jacket when she paused, eyes searching the darkness.

 

“Who’s there?”

 

“You have commendable intuition, Miss Skeeter. I wouldn’t reach for that wand, if I were you.” He stood, his own levelled at her. A sliver of moonlight revealing him as he abandoned the shadows. 

 

“Rodolphus Lestange…” Her eyes widened and she froze on the spot.

 

“That’s right.” He grinned. “Do take a seat, Miss Skeeter. We need to have a little chat, and my father always said it was unbearably rude to keep a witch on her feet.” He motioned for her to move to the sofa.

 

“What do you want?” She narrowed her eyes, moving backwards until she reached the sofa and sank down on it.  

 

“First you’re going to answer some questions for me, and if I’m satisfied with the answers…I might give you the scoop of your career,” he said and sat down across from her. “Now, why do you have it in for Hermione Granger?”

 

“Because I know that vicious little bitch is hiding something,” Rita said, fury clear on her face. “No one blackmails me and gets away with it.”

 

Rodolphus’ eyebrows rose. “Blackmail? How interesting. Whatever could a school girl have to hold over your head?” His tone was supremely amused.

 

“None of your business…AH!” She yelped as he hit her with a stinging hex on the thigh.

 

“Anything I want to know is my business tonight. For the purposes of this conversation, you have no secrets from me. Now, what is she blackmailing you with?” he asked again, his composed mask never faltering.

 

“I’m an unregistered animagus,” she bit out, rubbing her thigh to try and ease the pain and swelling there. “She discovered it just after the end of the Triwizard Tournament, and trapped me in a glass jar. She kept me in that bloody thing for two months.” She shuddered just remembering it. “There’s some dirty little secret under that veneer of goodness and I will find out what it is.”

 

“No you won’t,” Rodolphus said. “Because if you ever print a single word concerning her that does not meet with my approval, Miss Skeeter, I’ll do more than trap you in a glass jar.” There was a hint of a growl in his tone. “You see the deep, dark secret that concerns the girl…isn’t about her. She’s actually an innocent victim in all this, and it is a story that will sell more copies of the Prophet than anything you’ve ever run before. But, you will not print a word without my reading it first, or there will be nowhere on this earth that you will be able to hide from me. Do we have an understanding?”

 

The witch was pale but nodded. “We do.”

 

“Raise your wand and swear an oath that you will not write, print, or speak a word of this until after Yule,” Rodolphus demanded, accepting nothing less than her utter compliance.

 

“I, Rita Skeeter, swear on my magic not to write, print, or speak a word about the story you are going to share until after Yule,” she swore and the tip of her wand flared gold.

 

“Now, Miss Skeeter, let me tell you a story.” He grinned darkly, and began to weave a tale of an innocent young witch caught between the machinations of her father, notorious fugitive Sirius Black, and an Honour Debt she incurred with him after the death of Bellatrix. He spared nothing, how he had kidnapped her muggle parents to force her to comply, and how she was valiantly trying to shield her dearest friends from the truth so they wouldn’t be killed trying to protect her. He watched as the witch soaked up every word like a sponge, eyes wide as saucers.

 

“The Ministry didn’t dispatch Auror’s for her protection?” she finally asked after a long moment of stunned silence.

 

“Not the Ministry, nor even the Headmaster, took any efforts to ensure the safety of Miss Granger after she killed Bellatrix Lestrange, even though Antonin Dolohov very nearly killed her.” He let that little gem out as well.  

 

“The Dark Lord…is he…”

 

“The Ministry says that he is not, and you’d be wise not to change that opinion for the moment.” He warned her. “You will let me read the article before you print it…and if a single word is altered in print, I’ll take every single letter out of your hide. Trust me, if you cross me in this, it will take you a very long time to die.” He stood. “In return for this rare gift of a story, you will never again defame her in the press. Your word on that.”

 

Rita considered for a long moment. “Very well…you have my word, as a witch.”

 

“Make sure you don’t break it, Rita.” He looked at her for a long moment, as if considering if he could believe her. “Lovely wards by the way. They were almost a challenge,” he remarked and walked out her front door, whistling a little tune. 

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

“Are you coming to Grimmauld Place for Christmas?” Harry asked Hermione, sitting down beside her for a rare moment alone.

 

“No, I’m going to visit my parents,” Hermione said, the lie coming easier now. She still hated it, but it was necessary. “Professor Snape’s arranging a port key for me, so I’ll be leaving from Hogsmeade rather than on the train.”

 

“Oh…I was looking forward to having you here.” He looked crestfallen.

 

“I wish I could Harry, but I need to see them and make sure they’re ok,” she said and moved to give him a hug.

 

Harry returned it, and then made a little sound. “Easy there, you’re going to break my ribs.”

 

Hermione loosened the crushing grip she had on him. “We’ll always be friends right? No matter what happens?” she whispered, hating the desperation in her voice.

 

“Of course. Hermione, what’s wrong?”

 

Hermione could practically hear the frown in his tone. “Nothing, just…being silly.” She pulled back and wiped a tear away. “Girl stuff.”

Harry looked dubious but nodded. “You know if there was something wrong, you could tell me. Even if it’s about the Ron and Lavender thing.” He made a slight gagging face.

 

Hermione laughed and shook her head. “Merlin no, nothing like that. Honestly…yuck.” She moved back and took a deep breath. “Though, if I have to spend even one more second watching them make out in the Common Room, I will vomit.”

 

“You and me both.” Harry shuddered. “How can that even be enjoyable, it looks like they’re trying to literally eat each other’s face off.”

 

“I have no idea, I’m not exactly the queen of snogs.” She laughed.

 

“Still, you kissed Viktor right?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

 

“Viktor happened to be a gentleman, and *if* we snogged, it was certainly not like…that.” She shook herself like a wet cat.

 

“If? So, you mean I was imagining seeing the two of you snogging in the restricted section that one time?” Harry teased her even more.

 

“You think it was just one time.” She gave him a little smirk.

 

“So come on, what was it like?” He pushed a little.

 

“It was...” She blushed darkly. “He always started off so slowly, like he was afraid to scare me off. It was rather thrilling because we were always worried about getting caught.” She felt silly talking about this with Harry, but she could see he wanted to know. “Why Harry, looking to try your hand at snogging Krum?”

 

Harry suddenly blushed a furious shade of scarlet. “Hermione!”  He bumped her with his shoulder.

 

“Oh my god, you do.” She blinked, everything clicking together for her in an instant, the weirdness with Cho and Parvati, his utter avoidance of Ginny. She put her books aside and grabbed Harry’s hand, all but dragging him up to his dorm and casting a muffilato around them. “How long have you known?”

 

“That I like blokes?” Harry was still blushing darkly. “Since last year, everything was just such a disaster with Cho and I started thinking about it more.” He shrugged. “And after accidentally walking in on Sirius and Remus this summer, everything kind of clicked for me.”

 

“So is there someone you fancy? Even if it’s just eye candy.” she asked, not upset by his news. It was a normal thing after all.

 

“You’re going to think I’m mental.” He fell back on the bed and pulled a pillow over his face, muttering something into it.

 

“Speak up.” She poked his side and pried the pillow up off his face.

 

“Malfoy,” He said and then buried his face in the pillow again.

 

“He does have a nice arse,” Hermione said, laughing as Harry hit her with the pillow. “What! He does! Just because I don’t like the ferrety git, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate his assets.” She waggled her eyebrows at him playfully.

 

“So you don’t think I’m off my rocker?” Harry said, looking half-afraid of the answer.

 

“No. You should talk to Sirius about it though, I mean especially because of him and Remus, he’d be able to give you some advice that I can’t,” Hermione said a little more seriously.

 

“You don’t think I’m screwed up, or anything?” He looked nervous about that.

 

“Of course not, you’re like my brother Harry. You’re not the first wizard to like men more than women, and its ok. Just, be careful with who you share that with. You know how people can be with stuff about you.” The last thing she wanted was for Harry’s personal preferences to get bandied about in the press.  

 

Harry sat up and gave her a hug in return. “Thank you, for understanding.”

 

“Always,” she promised. “Though, if you ever decide to make a pass at Malfoy, I HAVE to be there.” She grinned wickedly, and shrieked as he pinned her to the bed and started to tickle her mercilessly. She cancelled the _muffilato_ spell between tussling with Harry, and together they just laid back on his bed and basked in their closeness. 

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

It was the Thursday before Yule, when an owl dropped a note in front of her at breakfast. Hermione frowned a little opened it, not having recognized the owl in question.

 

**_Meet me in the Prefect’s Bathroom at 10pm. Prepare for fun! ~Daphne_ **

****

Hermione smiled and tucked the note away, her eyes meeting the Slytherin girl’s across the room and she nodded once. She didn’t know exactly what Daphne had planned, but was rather eager to find out. Professor Snape had informed her that Rodolphus had arranged a port key for her and her maid of honour to leave on Friday evening, after classes had finished. Daphne’s parents had owled their consent to the Head of Slytherin, so everything was ready to go. The rest of the school wouldn’t be departing until Saturday morning, but Saturday was Yule. Rodolphus had wanted her to have time to prepare for the actual ceremony and spend some time getting herself together before the reception at Malfoy Manor that night.

 

Hermione had managed to borrow the map from Harry, begging it for a bit of illicit studying, and she hid it in her book bag as she slipped out of Gryffindor Tower. Honestly, she just wanted to keep Harry from seeing her and a bunch of Slytherin girls together. He’d probably think she was in danger and come charging into the middle of Merlin knows what. It would be a disaster beyond imagination. She was nearly to the Prefect’s bathroom when Professor Snape stepped into the hallway.

 

“Miss Granger,” he said, an eyebrow raised. “I am on patrol this evening, so there should be no interruptions to whatever frivolities Miss Greengrass has devised, though I suggest you all take care to be at breakfast promptly tomorrow morning.”

 

Hermione nodded. “Thank you, Sir. We’ll make sure we don’t…overdo it.” She grinned and slipped past him, whispering the password and heading inside. She stopped dead, blinking at the utter transformation of the room. There was a low table covered in pastries, chocolates, and sweets. There were bottles of champagne, and mounds of pillows arranged into seating areas and stations of various beauty products laid out. She recognized Tracey Davis, and Daphne’s younger sister Astoria, but the others were only vaguely familiar as Slytherin upper year students. They were all wearing green bathrobes, and sitting in groups on the pillows.

 

Daphne smiled and came over, taking her bookbag and handing her a white bathrobe. “Go and put this on, you are getting pampered tonight.”

 

Hermione wanted to protest, but Daphne hustled her off behind a changing screen and she decided to just go along with it. She slipped out of her robes and uniform, before wrapping the soft terry cloth robe around her body, belting it securely. She undid her messy pony tail and let her curls fall free. Taking a steadying breath, Hermione came back out. Daphne took her hand and pulled her over to sit down, and poured her a flute of champagne.

 

“To Hermione, the future Lady Lestrange.” Daphne said and raised her glass.

 

“To Hermione.” The other girls echoed, and everyone took a sip of their drink.

 

“So, you know Tracey and this is my sister Astoria.” Daphne began, and then started around the circle. “This is Mira and Audra Yaxley, Savoria Millbank, Tannis Malverne, and Sandra Nott, she’s Theo’s second cousin.” Daphne explained when she saw the questioning furrow on Hermione’s forhead. “I figured that you’d prefer not to socialize with Pansy tonight.” She smirked.

 

“Good call.” Hermione laughed.

 

“I think we could all do without a full-fledged duel,” Mira Yaxley look amused. “Though I can’t imagine she’d be stupid enough to draw a wand on you again.”

 

“One can hope.” Hermione’s eyes glittered in amusement.

 

“Ok, you drink that and I am going to start on your nails. Mira, you have pedicure duty.” Daphne delegated, and soon Hermione was the center of a lot of fussing and primping. She’d never been a ‘girlie’ type of girl, but as her nails were buffed, cuticles tidied, and then her nails painted in a pretty French manicure, she could admit that it was a little fun.

 

“What’s the colour theme for your wedding?” Audra asked, setting in beside Hermione while her sister worked on making Hermione’s toes look cute with pale pink polish.

 

“Purple and white.” Hermione said. “I’ll have vervain in my hair, and white roses with purple callas for my bouquet.” She let the older girls draw her out, getting her to relax a little more by talking about the details. The champagne kept getting poured and they started trading stories about their boyfriends. Daphne had created a game, with a bunch of random topics thrown into a bowl. They would draw a slip of paper, and then everyone would share stories around that topic.

 

“Ooo, this is a fun one. Your first kiss.” Daphne smirked. “Hermione you start.”

 

Hermione blushed darkly. “Do I have to say who it was?”

 

“Yep, all the juicy details, Granger.” Savoria smirked.

 

“Well it was in fourth year, and I was studying with Viktor.” Hermione ducked her head at the looks of rabid interest all around her. “He moved his chair closer, like he was going to ask me something and then he just tipped my chin up and kissed me.”

 

“Oh my god. How was it?” Mira leaned forward.

 

“It was really good,” she admitted.

 

“Wow, so after the tournament, did you guys keep in touch?” Daphne asked.

 

“We wrote letters for a while, but he’s been busy with training and then everything with Umbridge last year…we kind of just lost touch.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t ever going to be serious, but it was fun.” There were lots of giggles. “Ok…Tracey, your turn.”

 

“Well, my first kiss wasn’t that romantic.” Tracey grinned. “But it was the summer after third year, my father had invited me spend the summer with him in the Caribbean. Blaise and his mother were staying on the same beach, and we started hanging out to escape the adults. We were just lazing in the sun, when he just leaned over and kissed me…and I shrieked and fell off my lounge chair.” She laughed.

 

“So that’s why he looked so put out all September that year?” Daphne was laughing so hard she fell back on the cushions.

 

“He was afraid I tell everyone he was a horrible kisser.” Tracey smirked. “I told him if he got me a box of those nice Italian chocolates he hoards, I’d never tell a soul. Guess that one’s out of the bag.”

 

“I think his ego will survive a few giggles at his expense these days.” Tannis rolled her eyes. “Between him and Malfoy…it’s a wonder there’s enough room for those two in the dorms.” That brought gales of laughter from the group of witches.

 

Just as they finished facials, a little chime when off and Savoria swore. “Sorry ladies, but it’s like 3am and we should all start sneaking back to the dorms.” The seventh year Prefect said regretfully. “Granger, this was a lot of fun. I wish you the best.” She gave her a hug and cursory peck on the cheek. “Tannis, lets head out first. If we go in groups of two we should be able to duck the ghosts and Filch.”

 

Each of the girls said goodbye before slipping out, leaving Daphne alone with Hermione at the end. Hermione felt…lighter than she had in weeks. She went over and gave the blonde witch a hug. She’d never really had a really good female friend, but right now…Daphne had managed to become one.

 

“Thank you so much for this, it’s exactly what I needed,” she said seriously.

 

“You’re welcome.” Daphne hugged her back before pulling away. “I know with House rivalries and stuff it’s easy to forget that we’re all just normal people, but I thought it might help if you realized that you’re not alone. I think it’s crazy that your dormmates are so horrible to you. I may not always get along with mine, but we are friends. I know that if I had a problem, I could talk to them about it.”

 

“It’s not that they’re horrible,” Hermione paused at Daphne’s dubious expression. “Well…not completely horrible, we’re just really different.” She shrugged.

 

“It shouldn’t matter.” Daphne said. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, since they’re not there for you…we can be. If you let us. Anyway, try and get a little sleep, and this will make sure you don’t have a hangover in the morning.” Daphne handed her a vial of sober-up potion. “See you at breakfast.”

 

“Goodnight, and thank you again.” Hermione said quietly before going to change back into her clothes. On her way out, she stole a chocolate dipped strawberry and enjoyed one last little bit of decadence before returning to reality. Friends with a Slytherin, who’d ever have thought that was possible?


	20. Finding Confidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Part One of the Wedding Festivities. Enjoy.

**o.o.O.o.o**

 

The portkey landed Hermione and Daphne on a crushed stone path. Hermione staggered a bit and was a little relieved to see that Daphne looked a touch green as well. A set of massive wrought iron gates loomed over them, illuminated by a pair of torches that burned with blue fire. Beyond the circle of ghostly blue light there was only darkness. Her heart was in her throat and she reached over and caught Daphne’s hand, needing a little reassurance. The other girl squeezed it tightly, clearly not nearly as composed as she looked. There were footsteps approaching in the dark, beyond the gate.

 

“Hello there, Gorgeous. Glad to see you made the trip alright.” Rabastan’s smiling face was revealed as he stepped into the light. He waved a hand and the gate dissipated into smoke. “Will you introduce me to your friend?” he asked Hermione.

 

“Rabastan Lestrange, may I present my friend, Miss Daphne Greengrass,” Hermione said and had to resist the urge to laugh at him as he bowed formally to her.

 

“A pleasure, Miss Greengrass. My brother sends his greetings, but tradition restrict him from seeing you until the ceremony tomorrow. Now, if you would come with me, I will escort you both to the Maiden’s tower.” He smiled teasingly.

 

“You’re joking, surely.” Hermione gave him a look.

 

“I’m afraid not, pet.” He chuckled and gestured for them to walk with him, conjuring a light to float ahead of them. “My ancestors were not terribly creative when it came to naming things. It’s the set of rooms occupied by a Lestrange bride-to-be on the night before her wedding. Men cannot cross the threshold, unless they are the bride’s family. Dily will see to your needs, and I am to tell you that Narcissa will be arriving in the morning to assist you in getting dressed,” Rabastan said.

 

“Thank you, Rabastan.” Hermione was grateful for his rambling talk as they approached the honest to goodness castle. It kept her mind from running wild and falling prey to her nerves. The front door was easily ten feet tall and painted red, set with heavy iron work and it had an immense sense of age. Merlin, she wanted to just turn and run.

 

“You’ll be just fine, Gorgeous,” he said, pausing to seeing how nervous she was. “If it makes you feel better, my brother’s an utter wreak right now. If he’s not careful he’s going to pace a hole in the floor by morning.” He winked playfully at her.

 

“It helps a little.” She gave him a smile, letting his teasing relax her.

 

“Welcome ladies, to Chateau Lestrange,” he said to the witches and opened the door, gesturing them inside.

 

The inside certainly reflected the initial impression of a medieval castle. Over the years it was clear that the various owners had added modern touches, but the actual structure hadn’t been altered much at all. Hermione wondered what history these walls had seen and secrets they might have to tell. They followed him up a massive staircase and down a winding set of halls, until they reached a dead end.

 

“Press your hand to the stone,” he said.

 

Hermione reached out and pressed her palm to the stone and set of double doors appeared. They were white and embossed with gold filigree. She pressed the lever down and it opened smoothly.

 

“I must leave you here. Sweet dreams, ladies,” he said.

 

“Rabastan….” Hermione called.

 

“Yes?” He paused.

 

“Bellatrix didn’t use these rooms did she?” she asked.

 

“No, that one flatly refused to bow to tradition.” He winked. “Goodnight.” He reached out and took her hand, kissing her knuckles and then did the same with Daphne, who smiled politely.

 

“Come on, Hermione.” Daphne pulled Hermione through the doorway. The lanterns on the wall lit as they walked up the spiral staircase into a large open room. It was decorated in whites and gold, and there were comfortable places to sit. Against the far wall were two beds, placed side by side. Over the blazing fireplace was the portrait of a beautiful witch. She was wearing what appeared to be a French court dress, and had cascades of dark auburn ringlets around her shoulders.

 

“Present yourselves, and who is the bride?” The woman asked, in a pleasant voice. She had a pronounced French accent, but her English was good.

 

“I am Hermione Granger, and I’m Lord Lestrange’s betrothed. This is my maid of honour, Miss Daphne Greengrass,” Hermione said, moving forward. “To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

 

“I am Lady Antoinette Lestrange, and your intended’s many times over great-grandmother. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Hermione,” she said. “This room is designed for you to spend tonight in relaxation and calm. A bath has been drawn for you and the elves will bring you a light meal shortly. I will withdraw and give you some privacy, but should you wish to speak to me, you need but call.”

 

“Thank you, Lady Antoinette,” Hermione said politely, figuring that it couldn’t hurt. Once the frame was empty, Hermione sat down in the nearest chair and let her head fall forward into her hands. Everything was happening so fast, and just wanted the world to stop spinning for a few minutes.

 

Daphne came over and sat beside her. “It’ll be ok, try not to think about tomorrow too much,” she said. “Let’s look around the suite and just get comfortable.”

 

Hermione nodded, wrestling the bit of panic back down. She’d agreed to this. The only way out was to run and risk becoming a squib for violating the magical contract she’d signed. Marrying Rodolphus couldn’t be worse than losing her magic, no matter how much she wanted to flee right at this second. She stood and they found the bathroom, quickly realizing that it put the Prefect’s bathtub at Hogwarts to utter shame. The massive sunken tub was filled with a milk bath, flowers and floating candles adorned the surface. Off to the side there were two fluffy white robes and matching slippers laid out for them. On the side was a tray full of expensive looking toiletries, and another with flutes of champagne and little confections.

 

“Wow.” Daphne whistled lowly from beside her. “Well, shall we take advantage of this?”

 

Hermione nodded, a little overwhelmed by the sheer luxury of it all. “I think we should.”

 

Together, the two girls undressed and slipped into the blissfully hot water. Hermione was still worried about all of it, but tonight she needed to put those fears aside and just try and rest up for the day to come.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione was wide awake as light seeped through the slight gap in the curtains. Sleep had been fleeting, and she blamed her racing mind for her restless night. Daphne was sleeping peacefully and Hermione found herself envying the other witch a little. Daphne had another year and a half before she had to marry Adrian. At least Pucey was almost her age. Rodolphus was still so much of a mystery to her. Unlike everyone else, he knew she was just a muggleborn and not some long lost illegitimate Black. Her heritage didn’t seem to matter to him at all, and for someone who’d pledged their life to a Dark Lord intent on stamping out muggles and mudbloods, it was somewhat puzzling.

 

She’d seen the depths of his viciousness, but at the same time he’d displayed patience for her youth and inexperience. All of the sordid facts about him didn’t seem to matter, and she still had to admit that she actually *liked* Rodolphus. Getting married this young and being required by contract to get pregnant as soon as possible was not something she wanted, but Merlin, it could have been so much worse. A tiny smile crept over her lips as she thought about kissing him, and couldn’t help how it made it heart beat faster.

 

“What are you smiling about?” Daphne asked, sitting up in bed.

 

“I was just thinking about the first time Rodolphus kissed me.” A blush crept up into her face at the admission and she sat up too. “I’m nervous, but not as afraid as I thought I’d be today.”

 

“You’re going to be fine and if you ever need anything, you can always come to me or my family.” Daphne got up and went over to sit beside Hermione, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. There was a fierceness to her tone that reinforced her words.

 

“Yes.” Hermione took a deep breath and summoned a slightly cocky smile. “I think I’m going to be more than fine.”

 

A light breakfast appeared on the table by the fireplace, and both girls got up to try and put something in their stomachs for the day, aware that it was likely going to be a long time before the reception dinner tonight. Just as they finished eating, the door opened to admit Narcissa Malfoy. She nodded to Daphne first.

 

“Miss Greengrass, Miss Granger,” she addressed Hermione second and seemed to be searching for something as she looked at her.

 

“Good morning, Lady Malfoy.” Hermione said, with Daphne echoing the greeting.

“I hope you managed to get at least some manner of sleep last night?” Narcissa enquired, resizing a bevy of packages while she spoke. “We have a busy day ahead of us to get you prepared.”

 

“I was awake early, but I did get some sleep,” Hermione said.

 

“Sleep is always scarce for a bride the night before her wedding. I admit I barely slept two hours together the night before my own,” Narcissa said fondly. “Now, get yourself into these and then put a robe on. I have a feeling your hair will take the better part of the morning to tame.”

 

Hermione accepted a box and a peek inside made her close it quickly. It was full of white lacy underthings, and it was an instant reminder that tonight Rodolphus would be getting to see her in them. She headed for the bathroom and tried to keep from hyperventilating. She needed to stop freaking out and get a hold of herself. So, it was sex. It was nothing frightening, people all over the world had sex every day. She could do this.

 

Shedding her comfortable pajamas, she began to slip on the underthings. There were fine silk stockings, held in place with white lace garters, accented with delicate purple bows. White panties and a matching bustier completed the look. Silk and lace, accented here and there with soft purple touches. She eased her bathrobe over it and came back out. Narcissa had set up the vanity with a wide array of hair potions, combs, pins and other things that Hermione couldn’t even begin to name.

 

“Have a seat,” Narcissa said.

 

Hermione went over and sat down on the stool, surrendering herself to the older witch’s expertise. Her stomach was in utter knots, but there was something soothing about someone else playing with her hair. Narcissa worked slowly and meticulously, section by section, smoothing a hair potion through the length of her hair and then letting the frizz relax into perfectly smooth ringlets.

 

“Daphne, be a dear and bring me the little wooden chest please?” Narcissa asked as she finished the last section. The perfect curls were cascading around Hermione’s shoulders, the colour somehow brighter now. Whatever Narcissa had used seemed to brighten her natural highlights, making her plain brown hair shine with a mixture of gold, chestnut, and even reddish strands.

 

“Here you are.” Daphne came over, holding a square wooden box, inlaid with gold and the Black family crest. Narcissa opened the clasp, lifting the lid to reveal an exquisite diadem. It was encrusted in tiny diamonds to the point where Hermione was unsure what metal it was made of. The large gems set in it were black, and seemed to absorb the light like deep bottomless pools.

 

“This is the Black Bridal Crown, and has been worn by every Black woman on her wedding day since it was commissioned in 1509.” Narcissa picked it up and carefully settled the crown on Hermione’s head, a strange expression crossing her face as she did so. “Perfection.”

 

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror and was speechless; she looked like a princess. Narcissa and Daphne worked together to pin her curls and sprigs of vervain into a complicated style that worked to make her look a little older and more sophisticated than she’d ever felt in her life.

 

“There, I think that is exactly right.” Narcissa said finally and cast a tempus. “I believe we should take a break for tea.”

 

Hermione nodded, still a little in shock at how she looked. “That sounds like a good idea.” Hermione called Dily for tea.

 

“You look incredible, Hermione,” Daphne said as they settled down by the fire to enjoy a light tea.

 

“I hardly recognize myself.”

 

“Embrace it tonight, it will help get you through the reception,” Narcissa said as she fixed her tea. “You and Rodolphus will arrive, and be seated directly at the head table. There will be toasts, then dinner, ending with cutting of the wedding cake. Afterwards, you and Rodolphus will open the dancing. During the next song it is tradition for the bride to dance with the men in attendance, while the groom will dance with the witches. There will be more music and dancing, but you are free to leave really at any point after that. I will organize delivery of the wedding gifts to the Chateau the day after the wedding.” Narcissa explained the set of events.

 

Hermione nodded, taking the advice. She was supposed to be pretending to be a Black and she couldn’t imagine any of them cowering even in the middle of enemy territory. Admittedly, it felt easier to pretend when she looked like this.

 

They made relaxed conversation, talking mostly about classes and school related issues, until Narcissa declared it time to finish her make-up and then get her into her wedding gown. For this part, the mirror was darkened and she wasn’t allowed to see anything until everything was finished. She was getting laced into her gown just as the sun started to set and her heart started pounding. There was a knock at the door and she heard Narcissa go to open it, Daphne remaining to finish lacing her into the gown.

 

“Cissy, where’s Hermione?” Sirius’ voice floated through the room and Hermione found herself smiling. He’d actually come. She took a breath and stepped out from behind the screen and took a fair amount of pleasure as he was struck completely speechless.

 

“Try not to drool on the floor, cousin.” Narcissa looked supremely smug. There was a flicker of approval in her blue eyes as she saw the proud lift of Hermione’s chin.

 

“I’m glad you came.” Hermione walked over and was folded into a warm hug.

 

“Anything for you, ‘Mione,” he whispered and pulled back.

 

“You look…good.” She focused on him for a moment, shocked to see him in actual formal dress robes. It was so strange to see him in something other than the comfortable clothes he tended to wear around Headquarters. The robes were a deep crimson, edged with silver with a ruby cloak pin. Hermione could well imagine how many witches had fallen over themselves to try and catch his eye in his younger years.

 

“I could hardly look shabby walking the bride to the altar.” He winked roguishly at her.

 

“You’ll do,” Narcissa said, rolling her eyes a little. “Ready to see yourself now?” she asked Hermione.

 

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded. She walked over to a tall, floor length mirror and paused in front of it as Narcissa cancelled the obscuring charm on its surface. Hermione was unable to stifle a small gasp as she took the entire picture in. Narcissa had kept the make-up light, except around her eyes. The dark smokey shadow and liner highlighting them in a way that made them glow almost like dark amber in the light, reminding her of a lion she’d seen once at the zoo as a child. Diamonds glittered at her throat and ears, in the same style as the bridal crown. When she’d first chosen her dress, she’d thought that she’d look like some whimsical fairy princess, but before the mirror stood a Queen.

 

Daphne came out, dressed in her own dress robes that were a softer shade of lilac. She came over to stand with Hermione. “What do you think?” she asked.

 

“I think I’m ready.” She finally looked away from her reflection and met Daphne’s eyes, feeling a rush of confidence that had been absent for longer than she cared to admit.

 

“You are ready, at last,” Narcissa said. “Miss Greengrass, may I introduce my cousin Sirius Orion Black.” She made the introductions.

 

“A pleasure, Miss Greengrass,” Sirius said. “Any relation to Lynette Greengrass?”

 

“She’s my Aunt, and she lives in France now.” Daphne said, chuckling a little at his slightly crestfallen expression.

 

“Well, if you see her, let her know I said hello.”

 

Narcissa smiled. “You should head downstairs, one of the elves will escort you to the Ritual circle. I must return to the Manor and prepare for the Reception.” She walked over and placed her fingers under Hermione’s chin, lifting her face up. “Tonight you are a Black. Be proud, be strong, and bend to no one.”

 

“You can depend on it.” Hermione held her gaze confidently, feeling unstoppable in that moment.

 

“Good. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” With that, Narcissa summoned her things, and was on her way.

 

Daphne handed Hermione the bouquet of white roses and purple calla lilies, and Sirius offered her his arm. Hermione took it, resting her hand on his forearm and nodded. It was time. Daphne followed behind them, and Hermione felt the comforting pulse of a warming charm being applied to her shoulders as they left the warmth of the sitting room.

 

Dily appeared as they reached the front hall, leading them through the house to a side entrance. “Follow the path, Master Roddy be waiting,” she said.

 

“Thank you, Dily,” Hermione said kindly.

 

It was snowing as they stepped outside. Floating lanterns lined the path, leading the way through the darkened garden. Stone crunched underfoot as they moved forward, the only sound other than their breathing. She was grateful for the silence, unsure she could focus enough on anything other than walking at the moment. They rounded a bend and suddenly, there he was. Hermione stopped and just stared. He was resplendent in dark blue and gold, almost reminiscent of a late 19th century military uniform, with a sweeping cloak fastened over one shoulder. The expression on his face was equally stunned and it reassured her that they were at least on equal footing this once.

 

“Are you ok?” Sirius spoke softly, leaning down to check on her.

 

“I’m fine.” She squeezed his arm and they started forward, coming to stand before Rabastan. He was wearing forest green robes, accented in gold. He gave her a warm smile, before placing his hands on the worn stone marker in front of him. It had a great sense of age, a shimmer of power she could sense without needing to touch it.

 

“Tonight, we see the union of witch and wizard. A bond deeper than flesh, blood, or bone. It is a coming together of magic and power, old as time itself. Rodolphus Etienne Lestrange, do you come here tonight with an open heart ready to join with this witch?” He looked at his brother.

 

“I do.” Rodolphus stepped forward, standing in front of the stone.

 

“Hermione Jean Granger, do you come here tonight with an open heart, ready to join with this wizard?” His tone was gentle.

 

“I do,” she answered.

 

“And who gives this witch to House Lestrange?” Rabastan looked at Sirius.

 

“I, Sirius Orion Black, give this witch to House Lestrange.” Sirius walked forward with Hermione, taking her hand from his arm and placing it into Rodolphus’ hand.  

 

“Who witnesses this Union, so that no one may contest it?”

 

“I, Daphne Laurel Greengrass, do witness this union and declare it true.” Daphne spoke clearly, and took the bouquet from Hermione to hold. 

 

“Place the wedding bands on each other’s finger, and then I will begin the bonding spell.” Rabastan nodded to the two rings sitting on top of the stone marker.

 

Hermione took the larger ring and slipped it over his ring finger, only raising her eyes to meet his as she finished. A small smile crossed his lips, reassuring her as he slipped the other ring over her finger. As he did, the bonding bracelet unclasped, and he placed it onto the stone. They clasped hands and Rabastan began the bonding spell. Warmth flowed through her and the dark velvety feel of Rodolphus’ magic began to flood through her. It was so intense she could barely breathe, so much more than the joining spell had felt like. Brilliant bands of light wrapped around their hands and when the spell reached its completion they melted into their clasped hands.

 

Hermione swayed, grateful when Rodolphus caught her, supporting her against his chest. She could feel his magic swirling through her and there was this impossible pull, as if she wanted nothing more than to just be in his arms.

 

“Just rest a moment,” Rodolphus said, stroking his hand along her back.

 

Hermione pulled back after a long moment. “I feel strange,” she said.

 

“Once the bond is consummated, it will ease into the background, but until then we’ll both feel the pull,” he explained.

 

“Oh.” Hermione flushed a little.

 

“If you two are recovered, we need to add her to the wards and then we can return to the house for some drinks,” Rabastan said.

 

Hermione nodded. It turned out to be a simple thing, a little cut to her palm and then placing her hand on the ward marker. Compared to the bonding magic, it was a much softer experience. Rodolphus healed the little cut and kissed her palm gently, apologizing for the small hurt.

 

“Miss Greengrass, will you be attending the reception?” Rabastan asked as they all walked back towards the house.

 

“Yes, my parents were invited and given that I was part of the wedding party, they felt it appropriate for me to attend. My betrothed will be waiting there for me,” she explained, subtly letting him know she was spoken for, in case he didn’t notice her own bracelet.

 

“Black, will you join us for a drink before you go?” Rodolphus asked as they entered the Chateau and made their way to a formal sitting room. There were some light snacks laid out, and a bottle of champagne chilling.

 

“Of course,” he said, looking at Hermione with a bit of regret.

 

“Can I have a moment to talk to Sirius?” Hermione looked at Rodolphus, silently asking him to agree.

 

“Of course, I’ll get you a drink.” He headed over to join Rabastan and Daphne.

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find a way to stop this,” Sirius said softly.

 

“You did everything you could,” Hermione said and leaned up, kissing his cheek. “Having you here means a lot to me.”

 

Sirius smiled softly. “You’re a special witch, Hermione. Don’t ever forget that.”

 

“I won’t.” She moved back and together they joined the others. Rodolphus handed her a flute of champagne and groaned as Rabastan lifted his glass.

 

“Since at the reception, I will be expected to behave myself, here is my real toast.” He cleared his throat. “Hermione, I always secretly wanted a sister and not so secretly hated the one Rod gave me the first time around. So, thank you for killing the bitch and taking her place. Good luck keeping a leash on my brother. I’ll help you with that, when I can.” He winked at her. “As for you Rod, you are a lucky bastard and you better not screw this up. To Hermione and Rodolphus.”

 

Hermione laughed before sipping her champagne. She hoped that the warmth that wrapped around them here, would help see her through the rest of the night. Merlin knew, she’d need all the luck she could get.


	21. What She Wants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay, but this was something that needed to be just right. Happy New Year everyone!

o.o.O.o.o

 

Sirius had gone and Rabastan disapparated with Daphne, leaving Hermione alone with her husband for the first time since the ceremony. They were due to arrive at Malfoy Manor in about half an hour and Rabastan had seemed to think they needed a little time to themselves before the reception.

 

“I really wish we didn’t have to go,” Hermione finally said, filling the rather awkward silence.

 

“I know exactly what you mean.” He walked over and slipped his hand into hers. “I didn’t get a chance to say so before, but you look beautiful tonight.” His thumb stroked over her knuckles soothingly.

 

“Narcissa and Daphne did most of it.” She dropped her eyes.

 

“No, it’s just you.” He gently tipped her chin up. “You are beautiful. The dress, the jewels, and whatever they did with your hair…it just highlights what’s always been there.”

 

“You know, in the muggle world, it’s customary for the groom to kiss his bride at the end of their ceremony,” Hermione said boldly.

 

“May I steal a kiss then?” He grinned, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip.

 

“You may.” She shivered as he leaned down, brushing his lips against hers softly at first. She made a frustrated sound as he pulled away and gave her a teasing smile.

 

“I know better than to muss a witch’s hair and make-up before an important event.” He chuckled. “Though I promise to make up for it later.” He led her over to sit down. “How have you been?”

 

“Trying to keep busy, and thinking about how upside down everything is right now. My best friends have no idea what’s going on, and I’m having secret parties in the Prefect’s Bathroom with strange Slytherins.” She shook her head a little. “Everyone thinks I’m Sirius’ daughter, and the one person I thought would hate me forever for marrying you…is being supportive.” Neville’s support had been shocking, but it meant a lot to her.

 

“Maybe you should try not fighting it, and just accept that things are a little strange right now.” Rodolphus stroked his thumb along the inside of her wrist. “Everything that’s happened since last June has changed you and how you see the world. It’s only natural that your allies and confidants are shifting too. From everything you’ve told me about Harry, I’m sure he’ll understand. I’m quite prepared to be the villain in this story, don’t worry about letting them think that.”

 

Hermione nodded. “I just don’t know if I can stomach the way they’re going to look at me, once they know. I don’t want their pity.”

 

“Then tell them that,” Rodolphus said. “Wizards can be a little thick, so it might take a bit for them to understand, but they will.”

 

“I hope you’re right.” Her biggest fear that Harry and Ron would walk away from her because of this. She’d been so alone before they’d become her friends, and was abjectly terrified of going back to that. Logically, she knew that it wasn’t a realistic fear, she did have other friends now, but she also couldn’t deny that it was still there.

 

“I am. You’ll see.”

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Severus was standing in the Malfoy ballroom, trying not to feel ridiculous in his new dress robes. Lucius had sent them over, explaining that black was absolutely not permissible at a wedding, under any circumstances. The cut was the same as his teaching robes, but the material was a deep blue, edged in silver. As uncomfortable as he felt in them, he did feel a certain obligation to attend this evening to give whatever small support he could to his student. There were elements here that were not easily controlled, and things had the potential to go sideways at the drop of a hat. Rodolphus might well need the help to get Hermione out, should things devolve.

 

It was time for the couple to arrive, and Severus went to stand with Lucius as they awaited the supposedly happy couple. He couldn’t imagine his student being particularly pleased with being forced to marry a man old enough to be her father, but he supposed there were worse fates.

 

“Narcissa certainly outdid herself,” he said as he reached his friend.

 

“She always wanted a daughter, so I believe she is projecting a little.” He chuckled. “I almost pity the witch that marries Draco one day.” Lucius shared a look with Severus. “The blue suits you. If you want to truly terrify your students, you could try wearing them at the school. They might swear it was the end times.”

 

Severus chuckled, considering it as the door opened and Rabastan came through.

 

“May I present Lord and Lady Lestrange,” he said, looking quite pleased with the situation.

 

Severus watched as the newly married couple entered the ballroom. He imagined he wasn’t the only man to see how beautiful she looked, and tried not to castigate himself for noticing. Her head was held high, and her expression carefully contained. As her teacher, he could tell that she was occluding, but he couldn’t blame her for that. This was a test far beyond her skills, and she needed any advantage she could make use of.

 

“Merlin, she looks like Andromeda,” Lucius said, frowning a little beside Severus.

 

“Yes, she does.” It was uncanny. It was clear that Narcissa had done everything she could to keep the girl from resembling Bellatrix too closely, but in doing so…she had somehow turned her into a credible replica of the middle Black sister. With her head held up so proudly, and crowned with black diamonds…Severus found even himself questioning how much of a fiction her background was.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione’s heart was hammering against her ribs. Her fingers dug into Rodolphus’ arm as they walked through the crowd toward the head table, where they were to sit for the meal. Her stomach was in so many knots, she doubted she could choke down even a single bite. Her eyes scanned the crowd, looking for friendly faces and finding only a scant handful. She did relax the slightest bit when she spotted Professor Snape. He gave her a barely perceptible nod, and she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.

 

The tables were decorated with white roses and purple calla lilies, the china was bone white and edged in gold, and the silverware gleamed against the royal purple table clothes. Rodolphus held her chair for her, and she sank down onto it gratefully. She wasn’t sure her legs would hold her upright much longer. The weight of everyone’s stares pressed against her skin, making her feel like if she wavered for a moment it would crush her like a bug. Narcissa had warned her that these people were like sharks, and she understood just how true that was now.

 

Rodolphus sat beside her and took her hand, out of view under the table cloth. He leaned in to whisper to her.

 

“You’re doing fine. I’ll be right here beside you the whole time, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek.

 

Now that they were seated, everyone else began to head to their assigned seating and Narcissa slid into the chair beside her. The fact that Narcissa’s presence was a relief was telling to how alone she felt right now.

 

Lucius stood, as the last people took their seats. Everyone’s glasses filled with champagne magically, and the Lord of Malfoy Manor lifted his glass high.

 

“The union of a witch and wizard is a rare and beautiful thing. It is the bond that holds our world together and brings the promise a new generation to pass along our power and knowledge to. So I ask everyone to raise a glass to the happy couple, and join me in wishing them a long, fruitful union, and many happy days ahead of them. To Rodolphus and Hermione,” Lucius said, before taking a sip from his glass. His sentiments were echoed by the room as they drank in celebration.

 

Hermione gave a forced smile, and sipped her own, trying hard not to shake her head.

 

“While this year has been marked with tragedy, tonight there is only joy. This toast is for my new sister in law, Hermione. I welcome you to the family with open arms, and promise to help you keep my brother in line. We’ve lived in turmoil so long, that your presence is a welcome breath of fresh air. To the future of House Lestrange, may it shine as brightly as you do tonight.” Rabastan’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and Hermione had no doubt he was thinking less than polite things. 

 

Daphne was the next and she gave Hermione a warm smile. Her friend was sitting with Adrian Pucey, and beside an older couple she assumed was Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass.

 

“Today, it was my great pleasure to witness the bonding of Lord Lestrange, to my dear friend, Hermione. I wish you both all the joy and happiness possible. Take care of one another.” Daphne raised her glass and drank to them.

 

Hermione mouthed a soft ‘thank you’, to her as Rodolphus leaned over and kissed her cheek. She closed her eyes a moment and then turned her head to look at him. He wasn’t showing a lot of expression, but warmth filled his gaze, letting her know how he felt. A little pop drew her eyes back to the table as the meal was served.

 

The appetite she’d doubted, appeared at the smell of the sumptuous feast. Aware that all eyes were on her, she observed her very best manners and left the conversation mostly to Rodolphus and the others seated around her. More than anything she just wanted this part of the night over, so she could escape. It would mean facing the realities of her wedding night, but that scared her far less than some of the people in this room. The fact that they were all sitting here, eating and laughing, alongside known fugitives made her want to stand up and scream. What was wrong with them?

 

“Is the meal to your liking?” Rodolphus asked, as the main course appeared on their plates.

 

“It’s very good, of course I’d expect nothing less.” She laughed a little. Narcissa was a perfectionist, and Hermione had a feeling that it would be a cold day in hell before there was a bad meal served here. The roast beef almost melted in her mouth, unbelievably moist and tender. She sipped at her champagne, nerves getting the better of her.

 

“I’m honestly surprised we aren’t being served something exotic.” He chuckled.

 

“She let me choose the protein,” Hermione said. It was one of the few choices she’d been allowed to make on the menu. She didn’t even know what her own wedding cake looked like, for Merlin sake.

 

“Well, it’s delicious,” he said.

 

She was instantly relieved when the dinner plates were vanished. Rodolphus offered her a hand and she stood, moving to the side as there was a little pop and a magnificent wedding cake appeared on the table in front of them. The tiers were white, and a veritable waterfall of purple sugar roses cascaded down the layers. On the very top, a silvery R was looped with an H.

 

Together they cut into the cake, and there was polite applause as they fed each other a bite. It was a rich chocolate cake, and she couldn’t find anything to complain about. While everyone was getting their piece, most of the tables were vanished and the floor cleared for the dancing portion of the evening. Her stomach was in knots thinking about having to dance with the other guests. Other than Rabastan and Professor Snape, she’d honestly rather gouge her eyes out than smile and let them touch her, even if it was just for a waltz. Sadly, her participation was expected. Joyous.

 

She gave Rodolphus a look as Rabastan went over to where a grand piano had been placed by the orchestra.

 

“He thought you’d appreciate this.” He offered her a hand and escorted her out to the floor.

 

Hermione slipped her hand into his, and let him walk her into the middle of the floor. As soon as Rabastan began to play, she understood. The strong cords made her smile, he’d somehow gotten the sheet music from her favourite musical. It was from Beauty and the Beast. She felt tears sting her eyes a little as Rodolphus pulled her close and began to move them across the floor.

 

It was like night and day to dancing with Viktor. Rodolphus made her glide, almost like her feet were barely touching the floor. He used the natural swells of the music to sweep her through turns, and she couldn’t help the smile that took over her face. His hands were firm at her waist as he lifted her, and when she spun, he was always there to catch her. It was effortless and better than she could have asked for in this moment.

 

What made it all the sweeter was knowing that none of the purebloods in the room would have any idea where the music was from, or what it stood for. It was just for her. His brother had certainly sold him short, when he’d mentioned that Rabastan played ‘a little’. The music was flawless and she wished that it could go on forever.

 

There was polite applause as the song ended, much too soon for Hermione. Rodolphus bowed to her formally, kissing her hand.

 

“My Lady,” he said warmly. “I regret I must relinquish your hand for a few dances.”

 

“I wish you wouldn’t,” she muttered under her breath.

 

He just chuckled, as Lucius came forward to claim his dance. He inclined his head respectfully.

 

“Madame Lestrange, may I have the pleasure?” Lucius asked.

 

“It seems you may,” she replied, and allowed him to take her waist. His grip was light, and very respectful as the orchestra struck up again. It was a more spirited waltz, and she had to focus to keep pace with him. To Hermione it almost felt like he was trying to see if he could trip her up. Before she knew it, she was being passed off to Rabastan.

 

“Sister.” His eyes sparkled, clearly enjoying being allowed to call her that.

 

“Brother.” She rolled her eyes a little. Knowing what he was, she hadn’t wanted to like him, but Rabastan made it impossible not to. “Thank you, that song was beautiful,” she did say as they wove through the other dancers.

 

“I’m glad you liked it, and my brother is something of a beast.” He winked. “Alright, off you go.” He laughed and passed her off again.

 

“Professor.” Hermione smiled as Professor Snape, caught her in a careful grip.

 

“How are you managing?” he asked, looking a bit awkward as they danced.

 

“I’m holding it together, at least for the moment,” she admitted. “I both want this over with, and not.”

 

He nodded, as if understanding perfectly. “For what little its worth, you look quite lovely. I wish you the best, at least…the best that can be expected in this situation.” He looked very regretful.

 

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and after a few turns more, she found herself dancing with Draco.

 

“Granger,” Draco said with a smirk.

 

“Malfoy.” She rolled her eyes. “And I think it’s actually Lestrange now. Merlin, that sounds bloody bizarre.” She felt a little green just saying it.

 

“Disturbing, more like,” Draco said. “I…”

 

“You don’t mind if I cut in, do you boy?” A voice said and Hermione was spun hard, and came face to face with a wizard that made her blood run cold. Dolohov. His hand smoothed down her back, pulling her tight against his body. This close she could smell the fire whiskey on his breath and it turned her stomach.

 

Hermione reacted faster than her brain could really process. Her hand flashed out, striking the man as hard as she could across the face. The slap echoed in the room, the music coming to a halt as everyone stared.

 

“Get your hands off me!” Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she ripped away from him. 

 

“Come now, its tradition…just one little dance.” He reached out for her, hesitating as he saw her wand was now in her hand.

 

“You were not invited here…” Hermione said, the world narrowing down as she looked at the man hatefully. The memory of the attack swam up in front of her eyes and everything came flooding back to her, the blinding pain, the fear, but most of all the look in his eyes. He’d wanted her dead. Without consciously deciding to, she cast an _avis_ charm and the raucous call of cackling ravens filled the ballroom. All of her repressed rage at the situation suddenly boiled up, searing and wild.

 

“ _Oppugno_ ,” she said and the massive black birds attacked. His screams echoed through the room. Quickly, the guests scattering backwards from the unexpected duel. The scent of blood perfumed the air, as they tore at him with talons and sharp beaks. All of her hate and anger was focused completely on Dolohov, the birds working her will.

 

Rodolphus came up behind Hermione, wrapping his arms around her waist and brushing his lips against her ear. “I think he’s learned his lesson, love,” he whispered, eyes locked on the sight of Dolohov trying to fend off the large predatory birds.

 

She leaned back into his arms slightly, considering his request. It was hard, but Hermione cancelled the attack with a harsh move of her wand. She was shaking with the need to finish him off, knowing that if she didn’t, she’d regret it someday. There were streaks of blood on the marble floor, and she tensed as Dolohov got to his feet, drawing his own wand.

 

He never got the chance to aim it, as Rabastan was suddenly behind him, blade at his throat.

 

“You’re not thinking of attacking my brother’s wife, here at her own wedding? Are you, Antonin?” Rabastan’s teeth were bared, his expression feral. The sharply curved blade dimpled the Russian’s skin, the slightest bit of pressure away from making him bleed.

 

“Not at all…” Antonin swallowed thickly, careful not make any sudden moves.

 

“Good. Now, I think you owe an apology to all these fine people and then you should probably go, before my dear sister in law finishes you off herself.” Rabastan released him, and shoved him away hard enough that Dolohov stumbled.

 

“My apologies,” he bit out, and stormed out of the ball room.

 

Hermione’s eyes flicked over to Narcissa who nodded ever so slightly. Lucius vanished the blood and was coaxed the orchestra into playing music again. Slowly, people seemed to move off to speak in groups and a few brave souls took to the floor to dance again. Hermione turned and looked at Rodolphus.

 

“Can we please leave?” she pleaded quietly, wanting nothing more than to be out of here.

 

Rolphus nodded, and took her arm. “Let’s say our goodbyes to the Malfoys and then we can go.”

 

Hermione nodded, and it took everything in her to maintain her calm and collected appearance. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh over the memory of the man shrieking on the ground like a child, or cry over the fact that she’d have happily killed him.

 

“Leaving so soon?” Narcissa asked, moving close and brushing a quick peck on her cheek. “You did well, my dear.” She added, her tone softer with the praise.

 

“I should get my Lady back to the Chateau. It’s been a very long day for her, and she needs rest,” Rodolphus said.  

 

“If she doesn’t need it now, I’m sure she will soon enough,” Lucius said with a smirk, purposefully ignoring his wife’s glare.

 

“Thank you again, for hosting the reception.” Hermione’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and she was eternally grateful as Rodolphus made a show of picking her up and carrying her out of the hall. She just buried her face against his neck and tried to ignore everything else as he apparated them back to the Chateau.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Hermione’s heart was pounding against her rib cage as Rodolphus carried her into the Chateau, and up the grand staircase. Lucius’ words were still ringing in her ears, making her even more nervous about what was to come. It was one thing to know that she was going to have to sleep with Rodolphus, and another to actually do it.

 

“Are you all right?” Rodolphus asked as they headed down the dimly lit hallway.

 

“Not really,” she admitted, feeling her stomach twist into knots.

 

A heavy wooden door opened and he carried her into a large suite. The walls were covered with dark wood, and rich blue insets. A fire was burning merrily in the fireplace, and Rod carried her over to a plush sofa. He settled her down gently and brushed his thumb along her cheek bone.

 

“You’re shaking,” he said.

 

“I can’t help it,” she averted her eyes, not able to look at him. She felt him move to sit beside her, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Slowly, some of the tension began to leech from her and she leaned into him. It had only been five months since this crazy situation had started, but it felt like a lifetime. He was her husband now. The word felt foreign and strange, but it was true. She could feel his magic woven through her own, hovering there in the background.

 

She turned her face against his chest, and just tried to focus on the moment. The more time she spent close to him, the more the bond was pulling on her. Over the last months, she’d felt flushes of arousal when she’d been close to him, but this was overwhelming.

 

“I won’t hurt you.” His lips brushed her temple, and he stroked her arm. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Hermione. Besides, I’d hate to end up like poor Dolohov.” He teased a little.

 

Hermione couldn’t help the laugh that slipped passed her lips. “It’s too bad you stopped me.”

 

“I agree.” He smiled and shifted a little to tip her face up. “Now, I believe I owe you a proper kiss.”

 

Hermione’s eyes closed as their lips met. It started off slowly, and his hand carefully threaded into her curls. This time, he didn’t pull away. It grew hungrier, more demanding and she parted her lips under his. A wash of heat crept up her neck as his hand tightened in her hair. His other hand moved to shift her up, straddling his lap. She broke the kiss, and let her eyes search his face. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for, but the expression in his eyes make her heart skip a beat.

 

“You are so beautiful,” he said and lifted his other hand, wandlessly vanishing the hundreds of bobby pins holding her curls into its intricate style. The Black bridal crown he levitated off her head and onto the nearby table. He then spent a few moments carefully fanning her curls to lay around her shoulders.

 

Hermione trailed her fingers along the detailed embroidery on his jacket, surprised that he didn’t manage to get his fingers tangled in her hair. His hands trailed down her back, coming to rest on her hips. It drew her attention back to the fact that she was straddling his lap quite suggestively and that he seemed to be enjoying it.

 

“We didn’t get a chance for a second dance, would you grant me one now?” Rodolphus asked, his thumb tracing over her hipbone through the layers of silk and tulle.

 

“A dance?” She couldn’t help but laugh a little.

 

“Did you have something else in mind?” He grinned then, a roguish expression on his features.

 

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment at the implication and she instantly shook her head.

 

“Then a dance, my Lady.” He helped her up off his lap and took her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm.

 

Hermione felt the last bits of tension drift away, reassured that he wasn’t going to just drag her off to the bedroom. He put a record on and then returned, pulling her into his arms, much closer than he would have dared at the actual reception. A smile settled onto her lips as he dipped her playfully. Here it was easy to pretend that he wasn’t a Death Eater, and just for tonight she was going to hold onto the illusion.

 

One song shifted into another, and she let her eyes fall closed when he brushed a kiss against her temple. The material of his robes was a little rough against her cheek, and she could smell his cologne. It reminded her of the woods, bringing to mind layers of old pine needles and fallen leaves. His hand on her back brushed the laces holding the dress closed.

 

She felt the tug at the back of her bodice, but he caught her in a kiss before she could protest. He picked her up, carrying her back towards the bedroom. The blood was rushing in her ears and it was hard to focus on anything. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, a finger trailing down her spine as he eased the dress down her body.

 

Hermione shivered as the cooler air pulled her out of the daze she’d been in. She looked up at him, and pressed a hand against his chest. Things were going too fast.

 

“Are you ok?” He covered her hand with his.

 

“I just…it’s too fast,” she said, feeling a little dizzy.

 

“It’s ok. There’s no rush, Hermione.” He gently rubbed her arm. “Come and sit down.” Rodolphus led her over to the bed. Once she was sitting, he went and poured her a glass of wine. “Drink this, it will help.”

 

Hermione was shaking a little, but she accepted the glass. He was being good about it, but she knew there was something of a rush. They only had twenty-four hours to consummate the bonds, or the contract would be unfulfilled. She swallowed a rather large gulp and closed her eyes. She felt the bed dip as he sat beside her, and pressed a kiss to her temple.

 

“Why don’t I give you a few minutes alone, while I get ready for bed, mmm?” He spoke softly against her curls. “Finish your wine and get under the blankets.”

 

“Ok.” She felt a bit of the panic ease as he left the bedroom, and headed into the adjoining bathroom. She finished off the glass of wine and set it off on the bedside table. She walked over to the dressing table and saw that there was a night gown laid out for her. She mentally thanked Dily for thinking of it.

 

She finished undressing and slipped it on, before returning to the bed and sliding under the covers. The sheets were cool, and she laid back against the plump pillows. This was really not how she’d pictured tonight going, nothing like the fictional romances she’d fallen in love with in books and in films. Even up until last night she’d had dreams about Rodolphus sweeping her off her feet and sweetly seducing her into his bed. This was real.

 

The door to the bathroom opened again, Rodolphus was wearing just a pair of pajama pants, riding low on his hips. He extinguished the lamps with a non-verbal _nox_ , leaving only the flickering light from the fireplace to illuminate the space. Hermione’s eyes wandered over his naked chest, appreciating the view. He’d put on a bit more muscle since the last time she’d seen him like this, not looking nearly as half-starved. He got into the bed on his side and held out his arm to her.

 

“Let’s just get some sleep, we have the time and…I don’t want to rush this,” he said.

 

Hermione moved to curl against his side, but felt her head shaking. She didn’t want to wait, and right now this was what she wanted. She bit her bottom lip nervously and shifted a little to be able to brush her lips against his in a simple kiss.  

 

“I don’t want to wait,” Hermione said, looking down at him. She brushed her free hand over his chest, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. She wasn’t going to end tonight by being demure and shy, she wanted him and she was going to tell him that.

 

“You only ever have to tell me to stop,” he said before taking her lips in another searing kiss.

 

Stoping was one thing that she didn’t ask him to do.

 


End file.
